Double Take (3 page)

And in spite of the danger Lana was in, Kait almost prayed that he would look at her and see that she was not Lana instantly. Because then he would be told the truth he deserved to know, and then he and Lana could work this out together, as a husband and wife should.

His eyes weren’t merely green, they were the green of Ireland in the spring, and they were framed by thick, black sooty lashes. Kait knew she was staring, but she could not stop. His face was oval, a face with a slightly crooked and oh so interesting nose and high, high cheekbones. His mouth was full. He was lightly tanned. His brownish-blond hair was wildly sun-streaked, clearly an act of nature, clearly indicating a lifetime spent outdoors. He wore faded jeans, not fancy riding breeches. Kait guessed that he was about six foot two inches tall, and his legs were so muscular from a lifetime of riding that his thighs strained the worn denim there. A beautiful V-necked teal cashmere sweater clung to his broad shoulders and the firm planes of his chest. He wore faded brown lug-soled paddock boots. Something gold glinted from one wrist—a hefty, expensive watch. It was the only jewelry he wore—he didn’t even wear a belt.

Kait felt as if she had just been struck by a runaway locomotive.

Somehow, deep within herself, she sensed that she would never be the same.

Lana was so lucky.

“You’re staring,” he said flatly, his green gaze narrowing.

She came to life. And horrified, she felt her cheeks flame. Worse, she could not get a word out—in fact, an appropriate greeting failed her completely, as if her tongue were actually tied in knots.

He jammed the cell phone into his back pocket and then looked up at her again. Never had she been so mesmerized by a pair of eyes. “You’re back,” he added as flatly. “You cut your hair.” Both sentences were uttered dispassionately.

It hit Kait then. This man was Lana’s husband. What kind of greeting was this? Where was the hug, the smile, the kiss? In fact, he didn’t look very happy to see her. In fact, he didn’t look happy at all. She managed to stretch her lips into a taut smile, her heart pounding so hard now that she felt faint. Somehow, she said, “Yes, I’m back. I cut my hair. Do you like it?” And she could hear how her own words sounded, tremulous and tentative and frightened.

He gave her an incredulous look and walked back the way he had come.

She was stunned. And as it hit her that he had just rudely turned his back on her, she began to tremble.
Oh, my God. What was this?
Had she been mistaken—or had she seen anger in Lana’s husband’s eyes?

Kaitlin was afraid she had seen far worse.

Had she seen disgust in Trev Coleman’s eyes?

She fought for her composure. Wouldn’t Lana have warned her if something were amiss in her marriage?

But there had only been Lana’s letter, most of which contained instructions for Kait. And why would Lana have mentioned anything in regards to her marriage when she had expected Coleman to be away during Kait’s charade? Kait inhaled, hard. Surely they were merely fighting—married couples had their ups and downs. But there was no sense of relief, and she simply refused to think of how cold Trevor Coleman had just been.

Suddenly he was in the foyer again. He thrust an envelope at her. “This is yours.”

She met his green eyes and was stabbed with breathlessness again. For a moment, looking at him, she simply could not speak. His sheer masculinity made her feel tiny and petite, small and utterly feminine, porcelain and doll-like, when in actuality she was five foot five, healthy and strong, lanky but lean and fit.

“Sorry about the timing,” he said, not looking sorry at all. He looked anything but sorry—he looked annoyed, smug... pissed.

She came to her senses and realized she held a large manila envelope in her hand. “What is this?” she said.

“Divorce papers,” he said.

And, finally, he smiled.

Had a bomb exploded in the room, Kait could not have been more shocked.

Coleman turned away.

“What?” she managed, realizing that her mouth was hanging open. And her mind began to race.
Lana’s marriage was not what she had believed it to be; Lana’s husband wanted a divorce.

Trev Coleman did not even look at her now. “You heard me,” he said.

Kait could only stare speechlessly at his back as he walked away.

“I’ll take your bags up now.”

Kaitlin turned to meet the cold and far too speculative blue eyes of Max Zara. Clearly he hadn’t missed the exchange with Trev Coleman. “Yes, please,” she whispered, still stunned. “I... need to change.”

Zara was startled. He looked at her with surprise, his eyes no longer hard, but the speculation remained, intensifying.

Kait bit her lip. She knew she was acting like a frightened mouse, and her sister was anything but that. She managed to clear her throat. She sent him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said more firmly.

Suspicion filled his gaze. He regarded her for a moment and suddenly Kait felt certain that he sensed she was an impostor.

He turned abruptly. More dismay filling her, Kait watched him heft her two bags as easily as if they were a pair of books and he started toward the stairs.

Kait shifted away, leaning against the wall, rubbing her temples. Oh, God. What was she going to do now?
Why hadn’t Lana told her that her marriage was in serious trouble?

Suddenly a new thought struck her.
Had Lana even known that Trev Coleman wanted a divorce?

With real trepidation, she glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed Trev Coleman at his desk in a study—he had left the door ajar. He was searching for something on the desktop, apparently without success, his handsome face taut with tension, a piece of gold hair falling over his brow. Her heart lurched hard. How was she going to handle this... him?

First things first. She must regroup immediately, before her charade was discovered. And for one thing, Lana was not vulnerable or anxious; she was very confident, very charming. She also had a temper, and she knew how to do battle. Kait had to become that way, too, and immediately.

Except it wasn’t in her nature to lash out, and she had a dilemma on her hands. How should she handle Trev’s declaration?

Mrs. Dorentz appeared, a tray in her hands. On it was a beautifully prepared and presented chef ‘s salad and a cup of coffee, creamer, and sugar bowl, the last two items sterling silver. “Max, when you come down, can you take a look at the washer? I meant to tell you earlier that it is making an odd noise.”

Kait watched Max nod at the housekeeper, his expression now perfectly agreeable. “No problem,” he said. He sent Elizabeth Dorentz a smile, one which made him an interesting and appealing man—he had a cleft chin and dimples—and then he left them standing there to trot upstairs with her bags.

Elizabeth Dorentz gave her a reproving look. Kait realized she had been staring at Zara. She felt herself flush, and hoped that Elizabeth had not misinterpreted her look. “Boy, is it great to be back,” she said, attempting a smile. Was the salad for her? Somehow, she did not think so.

Elizabeth did not respond.

“I’ve been under the weather,” Kait added quickly. “I had a terrible flu. I spent two days in bed in New York. What a waste! I’m still not feeling all that great.” It was time to establish her story. She was a size smaller than her sister and the difference had to be explained.

“I’m sorry you were ill,” Elizabeth said politely. “I’m going to be late. I just called the school to tell them. I put lunch out for you. On the table,” she added, as if that point needed clarification. “Trev, may I come in?”

Trev looked up. Kait’s gaze went to him as if he were a huge magnet, and as he nodded at the housekeeper, his gaze swerved to her, as well. Their eyes met briefly before he looked away. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” he said pleasantly.

She set the tray down. “I’m off to get Marni,” Elizabeth replied, her tone completely different now. It was unguarded, friendly. “Do you need anything from town?”

“No, thanks.” Trev smiled at her.

Kait’s heart seemed to stop. Elizabeth was going to pick Marni up at school. Marni—her niece. Lana hadn’t left any instructions regarding her care or even her routine, which now seemed glaring and odd. “I’ll go,” Kait cried impulsively, excitement sweeping her. She rushed to the door of the study; she couldn’t wait to meet her niece.

Elizabeth whirled. “What?”

Kait saw the absolute surprise on her face, which she could not understand. And she saw Trev’s wide eyes riveted on her as well. She hardly understood what she had done to surprise them both, but too late she realized she had no idea where Marni’s school was. Why hadn’t Lana written all the pertinent information down?

Disappointment seared her. “I...uh...I really miss her. But I’m exhausted from the trip,” she continued lamely. The trip had been a forty-minute shuttle flight and an hour’s drive from D.C. “And that flu has sapped my strength. I, uh, had better let you go.”

Elizabeth Dorentz simply stared. “You don’t pick her up. I pick her up. I pick her up and I take her to school every single day.”

Kait stared back. Was Elizabeth being territorial as far as Marni was concerned? But at least she now knew a bit of Marni’s routine. She also didn’t believe that the housekeeper picked up Marni every single day— surely, now and then, Lana took her daughter to and from school. It was becoming very clear that Elizabeth had a chip on her shoulder. “You know what? I had better grab a bite to eat and go to my room. I’m going to take a nap. But I will pick her up tomorrow,” Kait added very firmly.

Elizabeth nodded tightly, her brows furrowed above her tortoiseshell glasses. Then she left the house, her stride long and athletic, the door closing behind her.

Kait hesitated, torn between the urge to confront Trev Coleman for her sister’s sake, and to flee as far from him as she could. She was still reeling from the shock of his handing her divorce papers—and from his being cold and nasty about it.
Lana hadn’t said a thing.
Could she have been oblivious to her husband’s feelings?

Kait found it hard to believe that she would be ignorant of the state of her marriage. But she would not be the first woman to be told by a spouse that he wanted a divorce. Sometimes, one simply refused to see the writing on the wall.

A chair slid back. Kait flinched and looked at Trev Coleman as he stood up. “You never pick up Marni,” he said.

“
Never
is a very strong word,” she returned nervously.

“So the games begin,” he murmured, not pleasantly.

Fear slid up and down her spine. She backed up. She needed help here, she realized, and anger flashed within her. She had walked into Lana’s life, assuming it to be a pleasant one, never dreaming that she was entering a war zone. Kait realized that she had to speak with her sister immediately. Lana had said in her letter that she would call her in two days when she was on her way back to Fox Hollow. That had implied that she would be out of touch until then. But Kait wasn’t going to wait two days to speak with her sister—if Lana didn’t know about the divorce, she needed to know immediately. And, even more important, Kait needed advice on how to deal with Trev Coleman.

Kait swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He made a sound of disgust.

Kait fled. She quickly moved into the foyer and paused beside a window, watching the housekeeper driving away in the dusty Land Rover. Her temples throbbed. Was Lana still carrying Kait’s purse with her cell phone? Would she pick up? God, Coleman was so hateful—her sister had to have known what was coming.

How had their storybook marriage come to this?

Then she heard his footsteps approaching in the corridor and any relief at being briefly alone vanished. Kait tensed instinctively and looked up. Trev was walking toward her. He didn’t look at her, but she was helpless and she watched him as he stepped right past her and went outside without a single word. A moment later she watched him climbing into the big blue Dodge pickup parked there.

Her heart lurched as she turned away from the window while he drove off. And finally she was truly alone.

What was going on? Did everyone dislike her sister? Was it possible? After all, Fox Hollow was her home, too. But that awful worker, Max, clearly had an ax to grind, and so did the housekeeper. And as for Trev Coleman, he was not the first husband to want a divorce, but he seemed to be furiously angry with her sister and just barely containing himself. Why?

And Kait was angry, too. Lana should have warned her about the issues she would face when trading places with her. She should have warned her just in case Coleman did exactly as he had—in case he changed his plans and appeared unexpectedly at Fox Hollow. But the truth was, even as children, Lana had always known when to omit the truth in order to get what she wanted. However, they weren’t children anymore, and what they were doing was immoral and terribly wrong. Lana should have been more honest with her.

Kait took a deep breath and calmed down. Her sister did have a good excuse for her behavior—she was being threatened by that Paul Corelli, and so was her daughter. That might make anyone distracted, thoughtless, and selfishly determined to do whatever had to be done.

At least she had passed the first series of tests—no one knew she was covering for her sister. Somehow, she had pulled it off when they were as opposite as night and day.

The next big test would be Marni.

But she was really alone now. As she realized that, the last of the terrible tension she had been afflicted with drained away. This would be a good time to explore the house. Lana had drawn a map for her, but she should inspect each room anyway. However, even knowing that, Kait turned slowly back around. Trevor Coleman had left his study door wide open.

Kait didn’t hesitate. She dropped her bag on the windowsill and walked into the room.

And the moment she stepped inside the wood-paneled room, she knew she was entering Trev Coleman’s inner sanctum. The room reeked of his masculinity. Here, the floors were stained the color of cognac and darker antique beams finished the ceiling. A large cherrywood desk covered with files and folders faced a stone fireplace, upon which were many framed photographs. The windows behind it looked out over the first of the six barns and several paddocks where his horses grazed. A beautiful rug covered the floor, mostly beige and blue and green; the sofa was dark, emerald green leather, and the rest of the furniture was upholstered in masculine tweeds. Kait realized she had become immobilized. She could almost feel Trev Coleman’s presence, even though he was gone.

Kait glanced at the fireplace; a painting hung over the mantel, the portrait of a magnificent, eagle-eyed chestnut horse. There was an open newspaper on the floor by the sofa, an empty scotch glass on the side table. She noticed a stack of horse magazines on the coffee table, two of which were also open. She hugged herself. Had he spent last night in here, alone with his papers and magazines? Did he despise his wife? Did he really want a divorce? Maybe he was only angry with her, but if so, why? What could Lana have possibly done to make him so mad, or was it a terrible misunderstanding?

Kait prayed the last was true.

She hurried to the desk. It was a mess. There were so many files, folders, pads, and notes she doubted he knew where anything was. She was reaching for the phone when she saw the photographs of Marni.

Abruptly she sat down in his chair. Her heart had gone wild. She lifted the portrait of the prettiest little girl she had ever seen. Her hair was dark like Lana’s and her own, but riotously curly, and her eyes were green and her complexion olive, undoubtedly the same as her father’s would be, should he forgo his tan. She was smiling shyly at the camera, and tears filled Kait’s eyes, love swelling within her chest.

Was this what her own daughter would one day be like?

She could barely wait to meet her niece and take her into her arms.

There were other photos of Marni on a snow-white pony that Kait felt certain was far too large for a four-year-old. In one of the photos she was actually going over a tiny jump in a riding habit at a horse show.

Kait lifted another photo, this one clearly of Trevor’s daughter from his previous marriage. In her letter Lana had mentioned that Sam was now sixteen, but in the two photos on his desk she appeared a bit younger. She was a beautiful blonde with a sunny smile and hazel eyes, but both photos were portraits, and there were no shots of her on horseback. Kait wondered at that.

And where were the photographs of Lana?

Kait suddenly turned. A bookcase was catty-corner to the wall of windows behind the desk, and sure enough, there on one shelf was a wedding photo of the bride and groom, both wreathed in smiles and looking like candidates for Mr. and Mrs. America. There were other photos of the once happy couple, including one of Trevor in a tuxedo, looking incredibly elegant and virile, with Lana in a daring evening gown that dripped over her every curve. His arm was around her, he was smiling and content, while she was laughing, undoubtedly at something he had said. What a perfect couple they made—in appearance, anyway.

Surely they could work things out.

If they had been that happy once, surely they could find that happiness again.

Kait swallowed, having to turn away from the photos of her sister and her husband when they had been so enamored of one another. She glanced briefly at a half a dozen photos of Lana astride at horse shows.

They brought back so many memories. Lana was a natural athlete, and a very competitive one. While they had both worked at a local stable in return for riding lessons, Lana had started winning top ribbons at the local shows from her very first time out when they were seven and in second grade. Kait had hated showing—she’d only done so once or twice and found the pressure of being the center of attention far too much. When their mother had passed away they had been thirteen, and their father had bought them both large ponies, and Kait now knew he had been hoping to distract them from their loss. Lana had continued to show, successfully; Kait had ridden for pleasure. Kait still rode on the weekends in Central Park or sometimes in Westchester, but she hadn’t had a clue that Lana had become so deeply involved in the horse world. That fact only added to the argument that Lana was eminently suited to be Trev Coleman’s wife.