‘Watch your step,’ Leah warned on sighting her high-heeled sandals. ‘The deck is smooth and can be slippery.’
‘Don’t you worry, sweetie,’ she said smugly. ‘I won’t fall. These shoes and I have gone to the top of Ayer’s Rock together. They’re like part of me.’
Leah could believe it. She’d met other women like Sandra on her travels. They looked all fluff on the surface, but underneath were tough as an old boot. They were survivors, the Sandras of this world. Not like the Leahs, the silly, soft, sentimental Leahs…
Leah gathered all her newly found courage and turned to face Gerard. He rose from where he’d remained sitting at the back of the small craft, his face now the picture of puzzlement.
Did he think he was fooling her with that stupid expression? She knew why he’d come. To get her back! The almighty Gerard Woodward could not be allowed to be seen to be a failure. His marriage could not possibly end in desertion, or, even worse… divorce!
Her temper rose another notch, so much so that when Gerard took a step towards the front of the Zodiac she was ripe and ready for him.
‘Not you,’ she spat at him, jabbing her right index finger towards his chest. ‘You can just stay right there and let Alan take you back to the beach!’
He blinked while Alan simply gaped. Leah was aware of Sandra gasping behind her.
‘Good God, Leah,’ her boss spluttered. ‘What’s got into you?’
‘I’ll tell you what’s got into me. That person there,’ she ground out, pointing straight at Gerard’s cold-blooded heart, ‘isn’t the innocent tourist he’s pretending to be. He happens to be my ex-husband. He isn’t here for a simple cruise. He’s here to make trouble. Believe me when I tell you he’s a sneaky, conniving conman and you can’t believe a word he says!’
Alan gave the sneaky, conniving conman a darkly suspicious glance. ‘Is that true? Are you Leah’s ex-husband?’
‘No,’ came the cool reply.
Leah laughed. ‘Okay, so you want to be literal! Legally, you are still my husband, I guess. But I walked out on our ghastly marriage six months ago, Alan, and haven’t seen this mockery of a husband since that day. In my book, that makes him about as ex as you can get.’
‘I’m not her husband, either,’ the mockery said.
Now it was Leah’s turn to gape.
‘Not my husband!’ she finally snapped. ‘What kind of game are you playing, Gerard? You can’t get a divorce in this country under twelve months, no matter how much money and connections you’ve got. I know. I asked.’
‘I’m not your husband because I’m not Gerard. But I can understand your mistake. I’m Gerard’s twin brother… Gareth.’
Leah was speechless. But not for long.
‘Gerard doesn’t have a twin brother,’ she argued. ‘He doesn’t have a brother at all. Period! He’s an only child.’
‘Is that what he told you?’ came the calm query.
‘Yes!’
‘What else?’
‘What do you mean, what else?’
‘I mean… regarding his family.’
‘He doesn’t have any family. His mother and father died some years back.’
‘Our father did. But our mother is alive and well and living in New York. I spoke to her only yesterday on the telephone.’
Leah’s mouth dropped open.
‘Well, you did say you couldn’t believe a word your husband said,’ Alan pointed out with merciless logic.
‘Yes, but… but…’ Leah’s frantic gaze scanned the man standing before her, raking him from head to toe to see if there was any visible evidence this was not Gerard. Since he was dressed casually, in pale grey shorts and a navy and white striped top, she could see quite a bit of him.
He looked leaner than Gerard, she finally conceded. And not quite as muscly. He looked older, too, with deeper lines etched around his mouth and eyes—eyes which at that moment were looking at her with a most irritating composure, as though he was patiently waiting for the truth of his identity to sink in.
‘I think you owe the man an apology, Leah,’ Alan grated out.
Leah glanced up into the man’s eyes, eyes which were identical to Gerard’s. They met hers levelly and quite blandly. Despite that, something decidedly sexual curled in her stomach.
Gerard had always been able to turn her on, just by looking at her. No way could another man—not even an identical twin—reproduce what Gerard could make her feel. Such a possibility was beyond belief.
‘Never in a month of Sundays,’ she bit out, ‘will I apologise, because I know I’m right. This man is my husband, Gerard Woodward, no matter what clever lies he trots out.’
‘Good grief, Leah!’ Alan exclaimed exasperatedly. ‘Why on earth would he say he’s your husband’s brother if he wasn’t?’
‘I don’t know.’ Unless it was to trick her into letting her guard down with him. Maybe he was plotting to kidnap her, or some equally appalling plan. She would put nothing past Gerard. She knew the real man now, knew what he was capable of.
Where once she’d thought him wonderfully strong and decisive, she now knew he was cold-bloodedly ruthless. His veins ran with ice, not blood. His silver tongue spouted lies with superb ease. My God, when she thought of the thousands of times he’d told her he loved her! Every morning before he left for work. Every time he’d made love to her.
Made love? she thought sneeringly. Such a description was a joke! Gerard had never made love to her. He’d seduced her. Manipulated her. Used her. Love had never come into the equation.
Nausea swirled in her stomach at the renewal of this bitter realisation. All lies. The man was a total lie. This crazy claim about a twin brother was a lie!
Hatred burnt in her eyes as she glared up at him.
‘I’m not him,’ he reiterated, in a voice so unlike Gerard’s that she was momentarily thrown. Suddenly his eyes were not Gerard’s, either. They were soft, and sad. Gerard had a wide range of expressions, but soft and sad was not one of them.
Still… faith in one’s husband, and one’s own judgement, once lost was not easily restored.
Leah hardened her heart against that treacherous weakness of hers to simply believe what she was told.
‘Do you honestly think you can fool me a second time?’ she threw at him in her agony and fury. ‘You’re Gerard and nothing and no one can convince me otherwise. So, I repeat, you either go back to that beach or I will. I’ll swim if I have to!’
Alan sighed his own frustration. ‘For pity’s sake, Leah, you’re paranoid. It’s perfectly clear this chap isn’t your husband. Why won’t you believe him?’
‘It’s all right,’ the man himself said. ‘I fully understand the young lady’s attitude, especially since she is unfortunate enough to be my brother’s wife. Gerard’s not a very nice person. He can be, in fact, a bastard of the first order. But I repeat… Leah, is it?… I am not Gerard. I’m nothing like him, except in looks, which is something I can do little about. I’m sorry if I have upset you. Truly sorry.’
Leah could only stare. An apology?
Apologies were anathema to Gerard. He gave reasons for his actions. Sometimes excuses. But never apologies.
Maybe—just maybe—this person standing before her wasn’t Gerard.
But only maybe. Leah was not about to