the way back to Peter. If I’d stayed with him—if you hadn’t ended up with him instead—everything would be different. Everything would be better.”
Danni told herself to remain rational and objective. “Kris, why are you bringing up old history again? After you met Ted, you told me how glad you were that you hadn’t ended up with Peter…that you’d broken off with him before it was too late.”
Kristine went back to the cart, climbed in and sped off before Danni could catch up. Then she chugged along at a most annoying pace—just fast enough that Danni had to jog in pursuit. At last Kristine glanced over her shoulder at Danni.
“I’ll tell you why I’m bringing up old stories. I think there’s a pattern here. I think whenever I find a man who could actually mean something to me, you decide he has to be yours. Call it sibling rivalry, call it whatever you want—but I’m surprised you never went after Ted. Or maybe you did, behind my back.”
“Kris!” Danni exclaimed, stung—and furious. She stood still. Kristine bounced along in the cart for another few yards, but then circled back. Danni glared at her. “How could you even imagine something like that? You know me, and you ought to know how much I care about you. That’s why I’m going to forget you ever said that. You’re terribly unhappy, and you’re taking it out on me.”
Kristine maintained her bravado for another few seconds, but then her face crumpled. She took off the sunglasses, and Danni saw her reddened eyes. She looked as if she’d been crying for hours.
“Oh, Kris—”
“Danni, if you ask me what’s wrong, I swear I’ll hit you with a three wood.” Tears spilled down Kristine’s cheeks, and she swiped at them. “I can’t have anyone here see me like this,” she mumbled. “You don’t know what they’re like, Danni. They’re always watching, waiting for one little misstep, one little show of vulnerability they can use against me. And all the while they’re pretending to be my devoted friends. I never feel safe anymore.”
“So much for high society. Come on,” Danni said, climbing into the cart beside her sister. “Put the sunglasses on, and no one will be able to tell.”
Kristine replaced the protective barrier, but her mouth had a pinched look. “I’m sorry for what I said, Danni. You’re the only real friend I do have left.”
Danni sighed. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m ticked at you, big time. It’s bad enough that you pretended to be me. But letting Bryan believe things could be serious—”
“All right, all right, I know it’s impossible.” Now Kristine sounded miserable again. “I don’t want to hurt Bryan.” And then, in a low voice, she added, “There’s been enough hurting already.”
“Kristine—”
“No more questions, Danni. I told you I’d come clean with Bryan, and I will. Tonight, in my own way.” The cart took off again at a good clip. Kristine gripped the wheel, staring straight ahead, and Danni no longer had the heart to chastise her. Besides, she had a niggling feeling inside, a fear that there might be a grain of truth to what Kristine had said. Was it possible that Danni did have some destructive need to compete with her sister when it came to men? And, if it was true, how could she ever have a sound relationship with a man…an enduring relationship…
“Oh, no,” Kristine said. “It’s him. He’s coming right toward us.”
For a wild moment, Danni thought Kristine was talking about Bryan McKay. But no…Bryan wasn’t in the golf cart approaching them. Instead her sister’s husband was at the wheel.
Kristine floored their own cart all over again—speeding away from Ted.
“Kris, this is ridiculous,” Danni said, hanging on for dear life. “At least, think of what your Sugar Beach friends will have to say about this.”
After a moment, the cart came to a jolting stop. Ted rode up beside them.
“Hello, Danni,” he said. And then, after an awkward pause, “Hello, Kris.”
At forty-one, Ted was still an extremely handsome man—tall, well-constructed, solidly built. Even if he was starting to gray a bit around the edges, settle a bit, the look suited him. However, right now his face was strained in a way Danni had never seen before.
“Kris, I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing,” he told his wife. “But you’ve got to stop.”
“I asked you to leave me alone.” Kristine’s voice wobbled. “Can’t you do that much for me?”
“No. Why should I? You’re mad at me, but you don’t even know what’s going on. You won’t even listen—”
“I don’t want to hear! Can’t you understand? That will only make it worse. Listening to all the reasons. The explanations, the excuses…”
“No excuses,” Ted muttered. “When you’re ready to hear me out, you let me know. When you’re ready to stop thinking about yourself, you let me know. I’ll be waiting…for a little while.”
“A little while?” Kristine’s voice was clogged with tears. She and her husband stared at each other, locked in their own private torment. Danni felt like an intruder, but there was nowhere to retreat. The golf course spread out all around them in its lovely emerald green…offering no reprieve anywhere. Nonetheless, she started to climb out of the cart. Kristine reached out a hand to her.
“No, Danni—please,” she implored. “Don’t leave me.”
Ted looked from one sister to the other. “Oh, hell,” he said heavily. Then he turned his cart around, and drove back the way he had come. Kristine waited until he had left before she broke down. Danni put an arm around her sister, and tried to comfort her.
The twin who infuriated her…the twin whom she loved.
CHAPTER THREE
THE THRILL of the hunt. That was the main thing Bryan liked about his work. It was his job to put money and people together for big projects, big dreams. In the process, he got called a lot of different names: venture capitalist, risk taker. Gambler. Damn fool, even, according to one client, until the client’s investment came back twentyfold.
And now Bryan was on the hunt for new game. It had taken him over three weeks to set up this appointment with the evasive C. J. Whit-field. At last the man had agreed to meet Bryan in this small restaurant in the heart of San Diego’s Old Town.
Bryan ordered a beer, sat back and listened to the haunting flute playing somewhere outside in the cool air. It was music that put him in mind of Danni Ferris. Of course, just about everything put him in mind of Danni lately. He was still thinking about her when someone slipped into the chair across the table.
“Mr. McKay.” It was a statement, not a question, spoken by a slender brunette in her thirties. She gazed at him appraisingly, almost challengingly. It only took him a second or two to figure out who she was.
“The C.J. is misleading,” he said.
She ordered a cappuccino. “For some reason, people just assume C.J. is going to belong to some stodgy good old boy. Beats me why they don’t figure it could stand for Candace Jennifer as well as anything else.”
She didn’t look like either a Candace or a Jennifer. She looked like…a C.J. Someone who enjoyed hiding behind an air of mystery and then taking others by surprise. Bryan wasn’t impressed. He considered all the delays he’d gone through to get this appointment—the cancellations, the rearrangements. It was too elaborate. Too devious, in the end.
“Well, Mr. McKay. Start convincing me why I should do business with you and your friends.”
Bryan tried to remind himself that this was the part he liked, working to match the money with the dream. And it was a very good dream this time, belonging to a