LITMIR.BIZ

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let out a harsh laugh. “He’s certainly not banking on my love for him.” Or what was left of it.

      She’d thought they shared caring and consideration based on their years of friendship. Even after scandal had hit the papers, accusing Stuart’s business partner, Congressman Haywood, of laundering Mob money through Coffee Connections, their import-export business, she’d believed her fiancé’s denials. In this instance, she hadn’t shut her eyes to the truth, rather, like her father, she’d believed in Stuart’s integrity. And since Stuart hadn’t been labeled as an accessory and the story about Congressman Haywood had later been retracted, she’d trusted her instincts.

      How wrong she’d been. Again. She’d caught Stuart red-handed, his business partner and the reputed Mob boss having a tête-à-tête in the church minutes before she and Stuart were to be married.

      She faced her life and the lies at last, confronted him and walked out. And though her parents supported her decision and her need for privacy, she knew they too were waiting for an explanation.

      Gillian let out a groan. “We both agree that this needs to be kept under wraps until you figure out a plan, but I don’t like the fact that Stuart’s let the press pin you with the Runaway Bride rap.” She picked up a videotape box containing the movie of the same name. “You might have similar hair—did I mention I love the curls?” She flicked at one of Juliette’s long spirals with her fingers. “And since this is the last time I have to sit for hours with the blow-dryer to copy your stick-straight hair to fake out those reporters, I’m eternally grateful.”

      Juliette laughed. “Thanks.” She loved her new look, too.

      She’d secretly always envied her sister’s ability to thumb her nose at convention and just be herself, cameras and press be damned. Juliette hoped her new loose-flowing perm, like her free-spirited sister’s, would change both her appearance and outlook for her upcoming trip. If there was ever a time to let loose, this vacation would have to be it.

      “Did you pick up those things for me at the mall?” Juliette asked her twin. If her fiancé had been interested in planning a honeymoon instead of a political campaign and election, she’d have the wardrobe basics ready to go. But Stuart had insisted they couldn’t get away. Now she knew why.

      “Got ’em. I put them in the empty suitcase while you were on the phone earlier. And you’d be so proud of how I finagled that trip without being followed.” Gillian grinned, obviously pleased with herself.

      Juliette cringed. “I’m sure I don’t want to know. It seems everyone’s been making sacrifices to accommodate me these days.” She hated the high maintenance perception that was the result of this nightmare. First her stylist had agreed to do spiral curls and a haircut at her house, not wanting his salon inundated by the press, and now her sister was running around like an undercover spy—and loving every minute.

      “They’re not sacrifices, they’re favors. And we love you, so we don’t mind. But I hate that you’re stuck in the house and practically branded, you know?” Gillian tapped her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor. “Damn, I wish we could leak this story.” She shook her head. “But we can’t.”

      “Not yet. Dad’s established a long tradition of serving this country. He’s well liked and respected. He has a place in history he’s earned. No way I’ll let him go out tainted by scandal. He doesn’t deserve it.”

      Gillian nodded. “I agree.”

      For their father’s sake, the secret had to stay secret a little longer. Juliette drew a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

      “Okay.” Gillian rose from her seat and grabbed for a bag.

      “So let me get this plan straight. I drive your car dressed like you, while you sit in the passenger seat pretending to be me,” Juliette said.

      “So far so good.”

      “We drive past the reporters, to your apartment where the rest of the vultures are waiting, and pull into the secure underground garage.”

      Gillian nodded. “Right. Where they have no access.” Her laugh bordered on giddy at the thought of outwitting the press. “They think you’re visiting me and to reinforce the impression, I, dressed as you, go up to the lobby and out to the convenience store on the corner before heading back inside. They won’t be looking for us to go anywhere while we’re presumably hanging out together.”

      “Meanwhile I slip into the back seat of Dad’s car, driven by his chauffeur, cover myself with a blanket and end up at the airport.”

      “Exactly. And if anyone happens to see you, they’ll think you’re me. No one’s going to bother following me once I have no access to you. Voilà! You’re home free and on your way.”

      Juliette stretched her arms out wide. “Ready to begin a glorious week of fun, sun and solitude.”

      Her sister’s gaze darted from hers. “You got the first two right,” she muttered.

      Juliette narrowed her eyes. She’d grown up in the shadow of her daring, more adventurous twin and she knew Gillian better than she knew herself. The shifting eyeballs and muttering under her breath meant her sister was up to something. “What aren’t you telling me?” Juliette asked.

      “Not a blessed thing.” Gillian glanced at her watch. “You don’t want to miss your flight. We need to get going.”

      Juliette grabbed her suitcase. “Okay. And if I haven’t said it before because I was too busy complaining, I am touched you’d spend your savings on me—and I want to pay you back.” Although both girls had trust funds set up in their name from their grandmother’s will, neither lived off the interest or principal. Each chose to make their own way in the world, Juliette as a public relations consultant for a pharmaceutical company, Gillian as a teacher.

      “It’s not a gift if you pay me,” her sister reminded her. “Consider this my broken wedding gift to you.”

      Juliette squeezed her sister’s hand. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

      Gillian grinned. “Yeah, you are.”

      They made their way into the two-car garage attached to the old cottage Juliette rented, where Gillian had parked her car.

      “Promise me something?” Gillian asked. “It’s private on the island and if we’ve done this right, no cameras are following you, no press is around to ask questions. Let loose and be yourself, okay?”

      “You read my mind.” Juliette wasn’t surprised that the twin connection was at work again. She laughed, knowing she’d already decided to take advantage of this time to be free and experiment with who Juliette Stanton really was. She never should have fought Gillian’s attempt to get her to take a vacation. She settled herself into the driver’s seat, put the key in the ignition and turned her wrist.

      “So,” she said over the rumble of the car’s motor. “Let the adventure begin.”

      

      ONE WEEK after his initial visit, Doug Houston stood in the luxurious open-air lobby of Secret Fantasy’s main building waiting for the object of his fantasy.

      His fantasy.

      Guilt swamped him over the thought of this whole damned trip and the charade he’d have to employ to get his story. Guilt wasn’t an emotion Doug was familiar with, especially when it came to getting the job done. But this job was too important to let something like unexpected feelings get in the way.

      He was at this resort tracking down Juliette Stanton, Chicago’s Runaway Bride, so he could dig up dirt on her ex-fiancé. And therein lay the source of his guilt. He could console himself with the fact that he wasn’t out to dig up dirt on her and in that, at least, he hadn’t lied to Merrilee.

      But Doug had a nagging feeling the reasons for Juliette’s run from the altar had everything to do with Doug’s recent troubles—and his

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