might draw from her choice.
With the business of studying menus and making their meal selections over and the waiters gone elsewhere, Annabel let her gaze drift idly around the exotic plants that provided a lush setting for the artistically curved swimming pool. This was Daniel Wolfe’s party. It was up to him to set the conversational ball rolling. In projecting the air of pleasing herself, she denied any anxiety or apprehension over his intrusion on the scene.
Silence didn’t worry her. The longer it went on the better, as far as she was concerned. She knew he was scrutinising her, trying to burrow under her skin, but that didn’t worry her, either. He could study her as much as he liked. With her face in shadow and turned away from him, he wouldn’t see much.
“You remind me very strongly of the young Katharine Hepburn,” he said bemusedly.
Other people had made the same comment. Annabel supposed she should be flattered by it, since she was not as fine-featured nor as beautiful as the famous actress. It was the wavy red hair, green eyes, high cheekbones and wide mouth that made the comparison inevitable. Secretly she wished simply to be herself. Sometimes, although she deeply loved her sister, being a twin made her feel she wouldn’t ever be a whole person in her own right.
She slowly slanted a sardonic smile at Daniel Wolfe. “Do you have the same aim as Spencer Tracy when he first met Katharine Hepburn?”
“What was it?”
“I believe she made a comment about him being too short for her. He reportedly replied he would soon cut her down to size.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “It doesn’t apply.”
“Because you’re tall?”
“No. I wouldn’t like to see you diminished in any way.”
Her eyes mocked him. “What do you think you’ve been doing?”
It gave him pause for thought.
“Come, Mr. Wolfe. A man with a passion for truth should realise what he’s saying and how it will impact on the other person.”
“In what way have I offended you?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Diminished, not offended. Let’s be precise. In matters of truth, one must be precise.”
She enjoyed tossing his purpose in his face, making him examine his attitudes and behaviour before setting himself up as a judge. Besides, there were always so many interpretations of truth. It was often a highly personal thing. Even facts and figures could be twisted to suit someone’s preferred vision. Precision was not easily achieved.
He relaxed and smiled, and she thought he was enjoying the mental tussle she was provoking. “Tell me my crime,” he encouraged.
He really was extremely attractive when his expression lightened. For one wayward moment, Annabel imagined waking up in the morning with his smiling face on the pillow beside her. It had a strong appeal.
“Let’s try this scenario,” she invited, leaning forward to engage his concentration. “You take a woman you fancy to bed. There you are, all fired up with desire, and she says you’re the spitting image of your brother. Then she says you remind her strongly of Met Gibson, except your eyes are grey instead of blue. Are you still feeling good about having this woman beside you?”
“No. She’s not focused on the person I am.”
She grinned at him. “Feeling somewhat diminished, Daniel?”
He gave a wry laugh. “Guilty on two counts,” he agreed, conceding the argument to her.
She sat back, ridiculously pleased he had caught her point so quickly. Her eyes flirted with him. She was taking wicked pleasure in putting him on the spot. “I wouldn’t like a lover who didn’t make me feel uniquely special to him.”
Heart-tripping desire flashed out at her. “You are unique. Superficial likenesses are irrelevant to the person you are inside.”
She shook her head, trying to quell the treacherous response he evoked as she rebutted his opinion. “They’re not really irrelevant, you know. In some ways they shape the inner person.” Her mouth twisted ruefully. “Who knows how I would have developed if I hadn’t been a twin?”
“The strength of mind and inner fire would still be there,” he said with certainty.
“Is that what you see?”
“More like feel. I’d no sooner laid eyes on you than it hit me like a sledgehammer. I’ve never experienced so much concentrated mental and emotional power. A totally annihilating blast. It made me wonder if you were telepathic.”
Had it made him suspicious?
Annabel silently fretted over what might have been a telling overreaction to him that night at the motel. She had been under intense pressure to keep alert and make all the right responses, leaving no crack in her credibility. When he had stepped into the room, she’d been wound up tight, having already fielded a host of questions from the motel people, the ambulance officers, the police. Someone had tipped off the media, as well, and reporters were baying for blood outside.
One look at Daniel Wolfe and all her instincts had screamed, “Danger, threat.” Her mind had leapt into overdrive, instantly dictating, “Fight, eliminate.” He hadn’t said a word, yet she’d repelled him with all the power she could harness because...because she’d felt his power and it had disturbed her, distracted her, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted or disturbed. Not until Izzie was safe.
“Are you?” he asked.
The question meant nothing to her. She was still deeply involved in analysing her reaction to him, trying to explain it away. No other man had ever affected her like that. On the other hand, she’d never been in such a nerve-racking, life-and-death situation before.
“You don’t want to answer?” he appealed.
“Pardon?”
“Are you telepathic? It’s said that twins sometimes are with each other.”
She sighed. “There you go again, thinking of me as a twin.”
“But not as a carbon copy, Annabel. I would never mistake you for your sister.”
Warm pleasure flooded through her as his eyes reinforced his insistence that she was unique to him. Then she remembered the photograph, and her heart seized up. If he had it, could he tell the difference? Most people couldn’t with photographs. Her heart kicked into life again. One man’s personal opinion didn’t count as hard evidence. He’d need more than that to prove it was Isabel who had been with Barry Wolfe when he died.
If that was his intent.
Maybe it was just curiosity to know the truth.
Or was that hope speaking?
The soup was served. Its arrival was very timely. Annabel didn’t like the confusion in her mind. She felt a very strong tug of attraction towards Daniel Wolfe. The idea of exploring where they might go together was getting more seductive by the minute. If only their connection had been simple and straightforward. But it was impossible to ignore the complications involved in his identity and hers. She had to stay on guard.
Her mind wandered over the problems as they silently consumed the soup. The truth had to be suppressed. It could hurt too many people. Even if Neil Mason forgave Izzie’s lapse into temptation, he wouldn’t forget it. His trust in her would be shaken, which would erode the supportive nature of their relationship. This would inevitably rebound on the children, and what had been a happy and secure household would start snapping with tensions.
Izzie wouldn’t be able to bear it. She needed approval. She needed someone strong to lean on. That was why she’d married Neil Mason, a man twelve years older and imbued with the confidence of having all the answers to everything, a man who was more than prepared to take charge of his innocent, malleable young wife and direct her along the