The Forbidden Twin(21)

"I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes widening.

Cade frowned.

Looking a little flustered, she turned to Scarlet. "John Harlan is in the conference room."

"Thanks, Jessie."

She hurried away after muttering another "sorry" to Cade.                       
       
           



       

"She's always hovering," he said, watching her leave.

Scarlet picked up a file folder and stood. "What do you mean?"

"Just that. And she's too eager to please. She volunteers for everything."

"The way our internship program is set up, she's allowed to float from  department to department if help is needed, or if she wants to be  involved in a particular project. She just has to clear it through me."

"Is she good?"

"She's a natural. As if she's had years of experience instead of just having graduated."

"People said that about you."

"They did?" She smiled, pleased. She didn't want to tell the boss to get  out of the way, but she did have a meeting to attend. She held up the  file. "Is that all for now?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

She was the last to arrive at the conference room, which was populated  by most of Charisma's department heads. She was not in charge of the  project, so the discussion was being led by the managing editor and the  art director.

Scarlet slipped into a chair. John, flanked by members of his own staff,  sat across the table. She met his gaze briefly, saw a smile flicker in  his eyes, then she tried to focus on the meeting. An hour and a lot of  discussion later, the meeting ended. She had no official reason to  approach him, plus he wasn't alone, anyway.

She'd been waiting all day for him to call and make plans for their last  weekend together. He'd had a lunch meeting, so they hadn't even met at  his apartment as they often did. But Summer would be home on Monday.  That fact had to be faced.

Scarlet lingered near the conference room in hopes of catching him for a  second, but his employees were on his heels and he only got to say a  quick goodbye, then he was gone.

Fin was in her office, hunched in front of her computer. Scarlet  considered going in and talking to her about getting away next weekend,  but decided it didn't matter when she did that, since Fin probably had  no plans to interfere with anyway. Scarlet would need next weekend away  even more than Fin. A time to mourn.

She returned to her cubicle. It was almost four o'clock. She and John  were bad about making plans, but this was ridiculous. It was their last-

She spotted an envelope on her keyboard, her name printed on it. She  opened it, unfolded a sheet of ivory-colored parchment. The note was  handwritten:

Good afternoon, Ms. Elliott,

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, will begin at 6:00 p.m.  You will be picked up from your home and taken to a secret location,  where you will be wined, dined and sublimed until Sunday evening. Bring  only the basics; no finery required. Lingerie optional but not  preferred.

This paper is encoded with a special substance that can read your mind.  If you decide not to accept this mission, this note will self-destruct  in ten seconds.

10 … 9 … 8 … 7 … 6 … 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 …

See you at 6:00.



Scarlet smiled. A weekend. A whole weekend … To say goodbye.





Twelve


"I know it's unusual to come to the beach this time of year," John said,  following Scarlet as she stepped onto a weathered porch. The surf  pounded softly. Clouds hid the moon. Distant houses were the only points  of light, like earthbound stars.

"It's perfect," she said, leaning her elbows on the rail. "How'd you find it?"

He rested a hand on either side of her, spooning their bodies,  sheltering her from the breeze. "Belongs to a client. He's offered it a  number of times."

It was late. They hadn't rushed to get there, had even indulged in a  leisurely dinner at a roadside diner about an hour out of the city as  they drove up the sound toward Rhode Island. They'd lingered in the  small, homey restaurant-their first and probably only restaurant  appearance as a couple-keeping watch on the parking lot, checking out  the new arrivals, even as it seemed an unlikely concern.

After dinner they made the decision not to talk about anything serious  while they were at the cottage. Maybe on the drive back, but not now.

Scarlet straightened, forcing him to, and leaned against him, nestling in his arms.

"I haven't been to the ocean in so long, except for The Tides," she said with a sigh.

Until now they'd always been in a hurry, as if someone or something  would tear them apart at any moment. For two days, however, they could  relax and enjoy each other's company. It was probably a big mistake to  end their relationship with a trip to paradise, but he felt entitled to  the grand finale. It had been about sex these past weeks-intense, driven  sex, with a few quiet or playful moments now and then. That kind of  intensity was good in the beginning, but now … ?                       
       
           



       

Now he wasn't guessing anymore. He'd come to believe that Summer hadn't  broken his heart at all. Maybe he'd assumed it went with the territory  of broken engagements, that he should have been brokenhearted. He had  been surprised, disappointed and a little humiliated when she called off  the engagement, but he'd recovered too quickly for her to have been the  love of his life.

But this Elliott woman-this one was the heartbreaker.

"Congratulations, John."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. Her hair blew against his skin. "On what?"

"On graduating from Woo U, with honors." She turned to face him and looped her arms around his neck.

He'd been inspired to do the weekend up right, just now realizing he'd been arranging a honeymoon.

And a farewell.

"I think it requires a valedictorian's speech," she said, her eyes sparkling.

He kissed her slowly, gently, thoroughly, savoring the warmth of her  mouth, the softness of her lips, the searching brush of her tongue. It  was a luxury not to rush, to know no one could arrive unexpectedly or  recognize them out walking tomorrow. They could pretend they were a  normal couple for once-except they would wear ball caps and sunglasses  as a precaution.

"Ah, the ol' actions-speak-louder-than-words speech," she said, snuggling against him, shivering.

"A month in the making. Let's go inside."

The house was typical of seaside cottages, with a nautical theme and  blue-and-white decor. Seashells decorated lamp bases and a mirror frame.  Interesting glass containers held more, here in the living room, and  everywhere, even the bathrooms. The master bedroom's French doors  allowed a view of the ocean from the bed. The bathroom held a  claw-footed tub with showerhead, and a wraparound curtain on a track.

"Would you like to take a bath?" he asked, still holding her hand.

"Sure."

"Go ahead. I have things to do."

She patted his chest, smiling. "I may have to change your grad status to magna cum laude."

"That would seem to require a more elevated speech."

"Oh, definitely. One that lasts for hours."

"I'll see what I can do."

She laid her hands against his face and kissed him. When she backed  away, her eyes weren't smiling anymore but shimmering with something  else he could only guess at … .

That she didn't want to give up this relationship, either.



Scarlet had debated about what nightgown to bring. Although he'd said in  his note that lingerie was optional but not preferable, she'd  considered bringing none, then decided that she wanted to tease him with  something red and lacy, a reminder. She'd chosen a long gown, which  covered her, yet didn't. She'd never felt so voluptuous, her skin warm  and damp from the bath, her breasts barely contained by the gown's deep  neckline.

Silk brushed her body like a lover's caress as she returned to the  living room. Candles were lit; the fire crackled. He'd plunged a bottle  of champagne into a condensation-beaded silver bucket and draped a white  towel around the neck. Two crystal flutes sat beside it, as well as  bowls of strawberries and whipped cream. Quiet jazz played in the  background. Pillows were piled on a quilt laid out in front of the sofa.  A vase of yellow daisies topped the coffee table, which he'd moved  aside. She recalled the white daisies in the master bedroom. He'd set a  perfect scene.

How was she supposed to give him up after this? Maybe this last-hurrah  weekend was a big mistake. Maybe they should've just kept everything  simple. Focused only on the sex. Gotten that out of their systems.

Too late now.

"Did you do all this?" she asked as he came toward her.

He nodded. "I had the refrigerator stocked, too." He cupped her  shoulders. "You've never looked more beautiful. And that's saying  something."