He had to hand it to her, though: for someone who could be so frustrating, she sure had some good ideas from time to time. It wasn’t Christmas Day, but lunch with Nell today with Morgan wouldn’t be half the ordeal it usually was.
The warming air curled from his open window through his hair, just like anticipation curled in his gut. He was already looking forward to seeing her. But then he was getting used to having Morgan around. Very used to it. Yet a few weeks ago he never would have believed it possible—that he might have an affair with a member of his staff, and a long one, at least by his standards. Even more surprisingly, he was in no hurry to end it. He was enjoying having her around too much.
So much so that when she’d insisted on spending last night back at her place to check everything was all right, and to catch up with her sister, he’d almost insisted he come with her—and not only to see if she was just using this mysterious sister as an excuse once again. And he’d missed her more than he’d expected last night. He’d reached out his arm and felt nothing, and had missed her sweet curves and satiny skin and the press of her warm body against his. For the first time in a lot of mornings, he’d woken up without the scent of her perfume flavouring his bed, and he hadn’t liked it one bit.
So he was in no mood to wait until twelve. Besides, it made no sense for her to drive over to his place when both the nursing home and the restaurant were in the other direction.
Picking her up was a much better idea. He allowed himself a smile. And, if they had a bit of time to kill before they had to pick up Nell, so much the better.
He pulled up alongside the row of townhouses and headed up the path to her door.
He could hardly wait.
There was no answer straight away, and it occurred to him that he should have called her first to let her know he was coming, but then the door swung open. ‘Happy Christmas, Morgan,’ he said, holding out a small, brightly wrapped gift.
Her look of shock brought him up first, closely followed by the realisation that she was currently propped up on crutches with one leg curled up beneath her.
‘What happened to you?’ He started. ‘Why didn’t you call?’
Behind her there was movement, and someone flashed into view in a dressing gown with a towel around her hair. And that one was Morgan too, only more so if it were possible—and suddenly there were two of them, looking at him like rabbits caught in a spotlight, and despite the warm summer day the atmosphere inside the apartment suddenly seemed tight and needle sharp. Something in his gut clamped down tight. That Morgan had a sister was no surprise, but this? Something here was very wrong.
The one at the door on crutches turned to the other and said, ‘Oh, Tiggy, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘WHAT the hell’s going on?’ he demanded, and Tegan wanted to shrink away and disappear into the woodwork. She was so not ready for this. Except that would leave Morgan facing him at the door, and her twin was even less prepared.
She stepped forward. ‘Maverick, this is my fault.’
‘No,’ her sister insisted at the door. ‘It’s all my fault.’
‘What’s all your fault?’ Maverick demanded, stepping over the threshold past her into the apartment.
‘Everything,’ both women said in unison.
He didn’t understand how there could be two of them, but he knew without thinking that the one in the robe was the one he’d come here to see.
‘Morgan, what the hell’s going on?’
Her large hazel eyes opened even wider, their green hints flaring up with what looked like pure panic as she pulled the dressing gown tighter around her. The one behind him started to say something, but Morgan stopped her with just a look before returning her eyes to his. ‘That’s just it,’ she said with a hint of resignation. ‘I’m not Morgan.’
‘What do you expect me to call you?’ he growled. ‘Vanessa?’
Slowly she shook her head. ‘No. I was going to tell you today, after lunch, but my name is actually Tegan.’ She pointed at the woman who was slowly shifting herself from the door, and now stood to one side, resting on her crutches. ‘That’s Morgan.’
He swung around. ‘What the hell have you two been playing at?’
Guilt was written all over Morgan’s stricken features. ‘I’m sorry. We swapped places. Tiggy—Tegan—pretended to be me. It was only supposed to be for a week.’
‘And you both thought you’d get away with that?’
‘You weren’t supposed to be there. I thought it would be okay. You were supposed to be in Milan. And then I had an accident and was laid up in hospital and couldn’t get back.’