Twin Temptation

Twin Temptation

Cara Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CARA SUMMERS has written more than thirty books. She has won several awards, including an Award of Excellence, two Golden Quills and two Golden Leaf Awards. Last year she was also honoured with a Lifetime Achievement Award for Series Storyteller of the Year from Romantic Times BOOKreviews. She loves writing for the Blaze® line because it allows her to write so many different kinds of stories – from Gothic romances and mystery adventures to romantic comedies. When Cara isn’t creating new stories, she teaches in the writing programme at Syracuse University.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Copyright

To my daughter-in-law Mary Plante Hanlon – who just happens to be a twin!

You’re also an amazing mother and a good friend. I love you!

Prologue

IT WAS a mansion right out of the books she’d read as a child—Jane Eyre, Rebecca, Wuthering Heights.

Those were Maddie’s first fanciful thoughts when she stepped out of the limousine and got a good look at the massive stone structure. Gray and solitary, Ware House soared up three stories and boasted three turrets and a roof edged in carved stone. A man could have tucked away a crazy wife in any of those turrets, she thought a bit giddily. And the fact that the sky was lead colored and cast the front of the house in shadows only added to the illusion.

But this wasn’t some English gentleman’s mysterious country home. It was the Long Island residence of the Ware family. And she was about to meet them for the first time.

A tall man who reminded her a bit of Michael Caine answered the door. He had to be a butler. His posture was ramrod-straight and his face totally expressionless. But Maddie thought she saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he stepped aside and said, “Come in, Ms. Farrell. Let me take your bag.” Just as if she were a regular visitor.

Still hesitating on the threshold, Maddie firmly reined in her imagination. It had rocketed into overdrive from the moment she’d received the phone call from that attorney, Edward Fitzwalter III. Gripping the strap of her purse more tightly, she stepped into the dark-paneled foyer. Since she wasn’t at all sure of her welcome, she’d asked the limo driver to wait for her. She had an escape plan in place.

“This way.” The man turned and started down a wide hallway. “The family has already gathered in the library.”

Family.

The knot of anxiety in Maddie’s stomach tightened. She was about to meet a family she hadn’t known existed until two days ago. Up until that time, she’d believed that she was the only daughter of Mike Farrell, a successful cattleman whose ranch was located about an hour north of Santa Fe. Mike had been an only child, the last of a line of ranchers, and Maddie was supposed to carry on his legacy. All her life she’d believed her mother had died when she was a baby. That was the story her father had told her…and since he’d passed away a year ago, there was no way she could ask him why he’d lied.

And according to the gruff-voiced attorney who’d called her two days ago, her father had indeed lied to her. And it had been a whopper. All these years, she’d had a mother she’d never met—a mother who’d been raised in this house and who just happened to be renowned Madison Avenue jewelry designer Eva Ware.

Oh, Maddie was very well-acquainted with the professional persona of Eva Ware. She’d studied the woman’s designs ever since she was in junior high and had first dreamed of creating her own line of Southwestern-style jewelry. Her father had known of her admiration for Eva Ware Designs, but he’d never once mentioned that the woman she’d so admired was her mother.

She was still struggling with the idea when the lawyer had told her that five days ago Eva Ware had been struck down by a hit-and-run driver.

No.

The news, shocking and unexpected, had set her head spinning. Sitting down hard on a nearby chair, she’d tried to gather her scattered thoughts as the voice on the other end of the phone droned on. Maddie had caught bits and pieces—her mother’s request…fly to New York…reading of the will…claim her inheritance.

Inheritance? She’d still been grappling with that word when the attorney had sprung another one on her. A real kicker. Sister. In addition to having a mother she’d never been aware of, she also had an uncle, a cousin and a sister—an identical twin, Jordan Ware.

For a few moments, the attorney’s voice had become nothing more than a buzz in her ear. She had a sister? A twin sister she’d been separated from since birth?

No. That was straight out of the plot a Disney movie—two of them, in fact. The Parent Trap had been one of her favorite films when she’d been a child. A memory flooded her mind of watching the older Hayley Mills/Maureen O’Hara version of the film with her father when she’d been nine or ten. And he’d never breathed a word.

No. She couldn’t accept that. Her father couldn’t have lied to her all these years. Gripping the phone as if it were a lifeline, Maddie had stood up and interrupted the man on the other end of the line. “You’re lying. If this is some kind of hoax, or some kind of scam you’re running, it won’t work.”

In a calm voice, as if he’d fully expected that reaction, he’d told her to call information and get the number of the Fitzwalter and Carnegie law firm in New York City and then to call it and ask for Edward Fitzwalter the Third. Pacing back and forth in the living room of the ranch house, she’d debated following his instructions for a full fifteen minutes.

She couldn’t, she wouldn’t believe that her father had lied to her. The man who’d called her had to be some kind of a con artist. Pausing at the window that filled one wall of the living room, she’d stared out at the land that had been in the Farrell family for five generations.

And then she’d thought of Daniel Pearson, the local real estate agent who’d been pressuring her to put the ranch on the market for the past six months. It was pretty common knowledge that ever since her father had died, she’d been struggling to run the ranch and still grow her jewelry design business. Could Mr. Fitzwalter’s call be connected to that? But how? If she had in truth inherited something from her mother, it would only help her hold on to the ranch and carry on her father’s legacy.

In the end, Maddie had succumbed to curiosity and a gut feeling that the man who’d called her was indeed Edward Fitzwalter the Third. And he had been. More than that, he’d been patient and kind enough to repeat all the information he’d given her before. He’d even told her that he’d booked an airline ticket for her on the following day. All she had to do was go to the airport and pick it up. A limousine would be waiting for her at JFK airport and it would take her to the Ware family’s estate on Long Island for the official reading of the will.

Maddie dragged her thoughts back to the present when the butler man stopped in front of a double set of paneled doors. Nerves jittered in her stomach as he turned the handles and pushed them open.

Still on the threshold, Maddie let her gaze sweep the room. It was cavernous. Three of the four walls were packed with books. The scent of leather-bound volumes mixed with the aromas of lemon wax and lilies from the vases scattered throughout the room. Four narrow stained-glass windows took up the wall directly across from her and let in a gloomy light.

And she was stalling. Screwing up her courage, she stepped into the room and one by one met the gazes of the five people who’d turned to stare at her. She began with the mustached and balding man who was sitting at the desk. She guessed him to be Edward Fitzwalter the Third. Then Maddie looked to the three people seated to the left of the desk.

Fitzwalter had given her a thumbnail sketch of each member of the Ware family. The handsome gray-haired man in the red leather chair must be Carleton Ware, Eva’s brother. Carleton wasn’t involved in Eva Ware Designs. He ran the Ware Bank, which had been established by his great-great-grandfather and whose branches were scattered all over Long Island. Carleton, his wife and son resided year round at Ware house. Eva, though she’d inherited half of the house, had lived in New York City. Carleton’s hazel eyes were cool and assessing as they met hers. The younger man seated to his right had to be her cousin Adam. He had wavy, chestnut-colored hair that he wore long and tucked behind his ears. His brown eyes held hostility.

According to Mr. Fitzwalter, Adam was very involved in Eva Ware Designs. He’d gone to work there right after college and he’d been trained by Eva from the time he was in high school. Fitzwalter had described Adam’s mother Dorothy, the woman seated to Carleton’s left, as a society matron with a very active social life both on Long Island and in Manhattan. She served on several charitable boards and spearheaded fundraisers for institutions like the Museum of Modern Art. She was a tall slender woman with a model’s figure. Her gaze was several degrees cooler than her husband’s, and superiority radiated off her in waves. Dorothy Ware’s perfectly coiffed brown hair and impeccably tailored black suit had Maddie feeling underdressed.

Growing up on a ranch had never allowed her much time to spend on fashion, and her khaki slacks, embroidered denim jacket and leather ankle boots were perfectly acceptable business attire in Santa Fe. She shifted her attention to the small Chinese man sitting farthest away from the attorney. He had to be Eva’s longtime assistant, Cho Li. He wore his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail, and it had begun to thin on top. According to Fitzwalter, Cho Li had been with Eva even before she’d opened her Madison Avenue store. When he nodded his head and smiled at her, she finally found the courage to turn to the one familiar face in the room—Jordan Ware’s.

On the long flight from Santa Fe, she’d imagined this moment so many ways. But she hadn’t anticipated the swift punch of recognition in her belly or the instant sense of connection. For a second she couldn’t quite catch her breath. It wasn’t like looking in a mirror—not exactly. In the dove-gray suit and turquoise blouse, Jordan looked as though she’d stepped right out of a fashion magazine, making Maddie feel even more the country bumpkin.

But the woman who rose from her chair and faced her now had the same blue-violet eyes and the same facial features. And though Jordan Ware wore her hair in a chic style that framed her face in a sleek curve and Maddie wore hers in a long braid down her back, the color was the same honey gold.

Everything that Fitzwalter had told her on the phone was true. For the first time, Maddie felt the reality of that sink in. She really did have a twin. A sister.

Maddie had no idea how long they stood there in that freeze-framed moment taking each other in, nor how many times Fitzwalter cleared his throat before the sound penetrated.

It was Jordan who moved first, rushing forward and taking Maddie’s hands. Looking into her sister’s eyes, Maddie saw her own feelings mirrored—curiosity, excitement and fear. Would they have anything in common? Would they even like each other?

“Welcome,” Jordan whispered.

For the first time since she’d entered the mansion, some of Maddie’s tension eased.

Then Jordan turned to the others in the room. “Uncle Carleton, Aunt Dorothy, Adam, Cho Li, this is my sister, Madison Farrell.”

For a moment there was silence in the room.

Cho Li was the first to speak. Stepping forward, he bowed. “It is my pleasure to meet Eva’s other daughter.”

Maddie found herself bowing back.

Then Carleton rose from his chair. “You’ll have to forgive us, Madison. The shock of my sister’s death coupled with the news that she had a second daughter tucked away all these years in Santa Fe…well, we’re still trying to absorb everything. Until you walked into the room right now, I’m not sure that any of us really believed what Edward had told us. Dorothy, Adam and I want to welcome you to Ware House.”

Adam and Dorothy, their eyes cool, remained silent.

Grateful that she didn’t have to walk into the room alone, Maddie let her sister lead her to a chair.

As they sat, Jordan sent her a smile and a conspiratorial wink. “Once the will stuff is over, we’ll talk.”

Chapter One

JORDAN WAS still holding Maddie’s hand when Fitzwalter opened the file in front of him and lifted the papers. Out of the corner of her eye, Maddie studied her sister. Jordan’s lips were pressed tightly together and her eyes were totally focused on the attorney.

She was nervous, Maddie realized. And it went beyond the fact that they’d just met. Since her chair was located at the right of the desk and angled in a way that gave her a view of the other occupants of the room, she took a moment to study the other Wares.

With his arm draped casually over the back of his wife’s chair, Carleton appeared to be perfectly at ease. But there was a stiffness in his shoulders and his mouth that belied that. At first glance Dorothy appeared to be bored, but her hands were clasped so tightly in her lap that the knuckles had turned white. Adam sat poker-straight, his hands gripping the arms of the chair.

If there was one thing her father had taught her it was the importance of reading facial expressions and body language. According to Mike Farrell, it was an essential skill in all kinds of activities—from playing poker to bargaining for a price on his cattle. Two things were clear to Maddie. The other Wares’ nerves were stretched as tightly as Jordan’s were. And the family didn’t seem to be very close-knit.

Why not? Had any of them provided support for Jordan as she’d dealt with the terrible news of her mother’s death? Something tightened around her heart as Maddie recalled the numbness and the piercing pain she’d felt when her father had passed on a year ago. That had been sudden too. She still felt guilty about the fact that she’d been at a jewelry show in Albuquerque, and Mike had suffered a heart attack while he’d been out checking some fences. Alone. Cash Landry, her neighbor and lifelong friend, had found the body the next morning.

Since she’d never met Eva Ware, Maddie couldn’t know exactly what Jordan was going through. Was there someone her sister could turn to as Maddie had been able to turn to Cash? As Edward Fitzwalter donned a pair of reading glasses, she linked her fingers with Jordan’s.

Gripping the papers in two hands, Fitzwalter peered over his glasses, first at the Wares and then at Jordan and Maddie. “My plan is to make this brief. If any of you want a complete draft of the document including all the whereases, wherefores and so on, I’ll be happy to make a copy. But if no one objects, I’ll get right to the bequests.”

Silence reigned in the room. When the attorney shifted his gaze back to the paper he was holding, Jordan’s fingers tightened on Maddie’s. She was worried about the contents of the will. Maddie’s heart sank. Of course she would be. So would everyone in the room. The only reason that Eva Ware would have requested her presence today was because she’d left something to the daughter she’d deserted. And that something would be taken out of someone else’s inheritance.

“To my personal design assistant Cho Li, I leave the sum of five hundred thousand dollars so that if he chooses, he can retire. But my hope is that he’ll remain in his position until the new owners of Eva Ware Designs get up to speed.”

Dorothy Ware whispered something to Adam and he jerked forward in his chair. “New owners? Who are the new owners?”

Fitzwalter glanced up. “I’ll get to that part sooner without interruptions.”

Adam opened his mouth and then shut it.

“To my brother Carleton, I leave all of my shares in the Ware Bank. I hope that he’ll finally make the fortune he’s always believed I’ve prevented him from getting.”

Maddie noted that the news didn’t seem to make Carleton very happy.

Fitzwalter cleared his throat. “The rest of my estate, including stocks, bonds, cash, Eva Ware Designs, my fifty-percent share of Ware House on Long Island and my New York City apartment, I leave to my two daughters, Jordan and Madison, to be shared equally. It is my sincere hope that they will run Eva Ware Designs together. However, there is one requirement. They must change places and walk around in each other’s lives for three consecutive and uninterrupted weeks beginning within seventy-two hours from the time this will is read. If they refuse to fulfill the terms as I’ve set them out or if they don’t stay the course for three weeks, my fifty percent of Ware House will go to my brother Carleton. Everything else, including the business and my apartment, will be sold and the profits divided equally among all my surviving relatives.”

Jordan’s mouth dropped open, and this time Maddie thought she knew exactly what her sister was feeling.

Dorothy touched Adam’s arm and he leapt out of his chair to plant both of his hands on the desk inches from the papers that Fitzwalter had just set down. Anger radiated off of him in waves, causing Maddie to sit forward in her chair.

“That can’t be right. I’ll be the chief designer now that Aunt Eva is gone. She should have put me in charge. She always led me to believe that one day I would step into her shoes.”

“He’s right.” Dorothy Ware spoke for the first time. Unlike her son’s, her voice held no trace of emotion.

Unperturbed, the attorney met first Dorothy’s and then Adam’s eyes. “I assure you that Ms. Ware’s will is in perfect order.”

“No,” Adam argued. “She had to have changed her mind since she wrote this. She was…busy. She just didn’t have the time to see you about it.”

Fitzwalter slipped the papers back in the file. “She came to my office two weeks ago and reviewed every detail.”

Adam’s face had colored to a deep red, and for a moment, Maddie was afraid that he was going to shove the oak desk over on the attorney when Carleton’s voice intervened. “Adam.”

The younger man drew a deep breath and backed away from the desk. As soon as he was a safe distance away, Maddie turned to Jordan and spoke softly. “I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t she leave the business to you—and why would she want us to change places after she’s kept us apart all these years?”

“I’ve got a theory about that.” Jordan glanced over at the other Wares who’d gone into a small huddle.

Maddie looked too. Dorothy was speaking, but her voice didn’t carry, and from the expression on Adam’s face, he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“Let’s blow this scene,” Jordan whispered. “I’ve got a reservation at an inn in Linchworth. I wanted you to myself and I thought staying over would be better than battling rush-hour traffic back into the city.”

They’d made it nearly to the front door when Adam caught up with them. He grabbed Jordan by the arm and jerked her around to face him. “You can’t get away with this.”

The fury in his voice sent Maddie into action. Enough was enough. She gripped the arm holding Jordan. “Let my sister go.”

“What?” Adam sent her a startled look.

Maddie placed both hands on his chest and gave him one hard shove into the wall. “Just because you’re frustrated by the terms of your aunt’s will doesn’t mean you can manhandle my sister. Got that?”

Adam stared at her. “You shoved me.”

“I did.”

“Adam.” The cool tones of Dorothy Ware’s voice carried the length of the hallway.

“This isn’t the end of this,” Adam said as he pushed himself away from the wall and strode back to his mother.

Jordan waited until they’d collected their bags from the butler and run down the steps to the waiting limo. Then she whirled to face Maddie. “I’ve wanted to give Adam a good shove for years.” She pulled Maddie into a hard hug. “I guess I’ve been waiting for my superhero sister to do it for me.”

JORDAN LED the way into the suite she’d rented in the Linchworth Inn. She hadn’t said a word to Maddie during the five-minute ride in the limousine. In spite of the distracting and somewhat amusing altercation with Adam, Jordan knew her head was still spinning with the contents of her mother’s will. Maddie’s must have been too. She’d tried to think, to plan her strategy. But in business, the key to any successful strategy always depended on knowing your audience.

And she didn’t know her sister very well at all. Oh, she’d done as much research as she could—first cross-examining Mr. Fitzwalter and then checking out Maddie’s Web site. In Jordan’s opinion, the Web site needed a makeover, but the jewelry didn’t. Her sister had talent. Most of Maddie’s work was focused on Southwestern belt buckles, tie clips and pins. The designs were dramatic, the workmanship exquisite, using a lot of turquoise and intricately inlaid patterns. There’d also been a few examples of finer pieces—earrings and bracelets. Perhaps she could use her sister’s interest in jewelry design as a bargaining chip.

But she needed to know more. And she didn’t have a lot of time. The seventy-two-hour clock was ticking.

Leaning down, she opened the door of a small refrigerator and then glanced back at Maddie standing just inside the room, taking it in.

Jordan let her own gaze sweep the area. It was a small suite with two bedrooms. The sitting room had dormer windows with lace curtains and was furnished in antiques. Two chintz-covered love seats faced each other across a small coffee table with a marble top.

“I can offer you some wine. Mom and I always liked white. But I can order up a bottle of red or something else if you’d prefer.”

“White’s fine,” Maddie said.

Silence stretched as Jordan uncorked a bottle of chardonnay and filled two glasses. Stalling. That’s what she was doing. What in the world was the matter with her? She was hardly ever at a loss for words.

“This is a lovely room,” Maddie said.

Jordan glanced around again and felt her throat tighten a little. “Mom liked it. We used to stay here whenever we had to visit Uncle Carleton and company.” She would never stay here again with her mother. But she couldn’t let herself think about that right now. Not yet.

“You didn’t stay at Ware House?”

Jordan handed her a glass and waved her over to one of the love seats. “The atmosphere there has always been a bit frigid. And things have gotten worse since I got my MBA and started working at Eva Ware Designs. But it goes back further than that. I don’t think that Uncle Carleton and Mom ever saw eye to eye even when they were kids. The friction escalated when my grandfather died. Uncle Carleton is one of those old-fashioned men who believes that the oldest son should inherit everything outright. Thank heavens, my grandfather didn’t agree. When he died, he divided everything up between Mom and Uncle Carleton—even Ware House. She took her half of the stocks, bonds and cash and invested everything in her design business. She was able to move into the Madison Avenue store.”