Seducing The Enemy

But now?

“Good evening,” she returned, struggling to mount defences and establish a calm stand-off in this surprise encounter.

His mouth curved into a whimsical smile. “We have been introduced.”

She summoned up an ironic response. “I remember it well.”

His eyes didn’t smile. Neither did hers. They appraised each other in a silence that sizzled with undercurrents.

In the days after his brother’s death, Annabel had been highly conscious of Daniel Wolfe, reading his reported comments with considerable apprehension and watching him interviewed on television. He didn’t raise questions. He posed no problem to her. Yet still she had felt a threat, as she did now.

The camera had reflected the austere elegance of the man, the strong, classically-boned face, the touch of grey at the temples lending a distinguished air to conventionally cut coal-black hair, the tall, broad-shouldered physique clothed in tailored perfection, the aura of control that came with sharply honed intelligence. It had not captured the cold blast of his power to dominate.

Warm charm had been Barry Wolfe’s personal trademark.

His brother exuded icy, unshakable command.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing tonight, Annabel thought, dismissing the casual image of blue jeans and a dark red sports shirt. The pretence of being on vacation did not wear with her. The laserlike grey eyes were at work trying to strip her of control and strike at any vulnerability he could find.

Her white pants-suit felt flimsy. She needed a steel-plated coat of armour against this man. The soft balminess of the evening suddenly developed a chill. Her arms prickled with goose bumps, despite the long-sleeved overblouse she’d worn in case it was cooler on the walk to her cabin after dinner.

“I much prefer the circumstances of this meeting,” he said, as though offering her a truce.

“I was thinking what a small world it is,” she replied, the suspicion growing that he had followed her here. Which meant he’d had her under surveillance. For what purpose? was the million-dollar question.

“Growing smaller all the time,” he agreed. “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

She shrugged. “Why not?” Better to have him beside her than behind her.

She got her feet working again, and he caught up with her in a few strides. They settled into an easy stroll. The path zigzagged down the hill and was wide enough for there to be no difficulty in avoiding contact. Annabel kept well apart from her unwelcome companion, too intensely aware of him for her comfort. He emanated a more aggressive maleness than she’d met in any other man. It was unnerving, giving the feeling she was threatened on more than one level.

Why did he, of all men, make her feel overly conscious of being a woman? No one could ever have described her as a fragile flower. She was well above average height, with a frame that held generous curves in pleasing proportion and long legs that were strong and athletic from regular gym workouts. His legs, she couldn’t help noticing, were longer and stronger, and he was a head taller than she was. Everything about him seemed to put her at a disadvantage.

“Is your sister here, too?”

He asked the question lightly, a seemingly innocuous inquiry. Annabel’s inner tension leapt to red alert. Why would he ask about Isabel? To all intents and purposes she and her twin led very separate lives. How did he even know about Isabel?

A bit of probing might be profitable, Annabel decided. She gave him a puzzled look. “Why would you imagine I’d have my sister with me?”

He shrugged. “Twins—identical twins—are very close, aren’t they? Perfectly natural to stick together.”

There was something very ominous about that knowing little speech. To her perhaps oversensitive mind it suggested he suspected the sister swap. Yet why should he?

“My sister has a husband and three children,” Annabel dryly informed him. “We gave up sharing a bed before we went to school.”

His mouth twitched in amusement. “I take it you’re alone on this trip.”

“I happen to like my own company,” she said with pointed emphasis.

“Yes,” he agreed affably, letting the hint to leave her alone slide right past him. “You come over as unusually self-sufficient. It’s quite intriguing, given you’re a twin. Are you the older or the younger?”

The harping on twins needled her. “Does age prove anything?”

“I wondered if the stronger was born first.”

Annabel had no compunction in tossing the quiz back at him. “Did you find that in your family?” She knew he was the younger brother. Barry Wolfe had been forty-two when he’d died. She remembered reading that the brilliant barrister was six years his junior.

His eyes flashed mocking appreciation for the neat bit of fencing. “If you’re comparing me to Barry, it doesn’t really apply. We were both firstborns. To different mothers.”

Only half-brothers! “Your father was widowed?” she asked, curious about his family situation.

“No. Divorced.”

That answered a lot of questions. Barry Wolfe had probably played his divorced parents against each other, learning to double-deal at a very early age and using his considerable charm to get away with it. Whereas Daniel Wolfe undoubtedly grew up enjoying the united focus of both parents. It did make for differences, she decided, apart from those arising from separate genetic pools.

“Were you very close to your half-brother?” she asked, wanting to know his motive for this supposedly accidental encounter with her. Affection? Loyalty? Pride? A wish to clear his family name? Tarnishing hers and Isabel’s would not achieve that, but it could muddy the issue and throw doubt on her integrity.

“We were never what you might call close,” he answered slowly, “but his company was always lively and interesting when we did get together. Barry was very likable.”

His stock in trade, Annabel thought cynically, wishing her sister hadn’t been drawn in by it. Although she could understand the attraction, the wicked appeal of a sexy seducer. After eleven years of marriage to Neil Mason—so upright and unimaginative he probably never deviated from the missionary position—Isabel could have been ripe for some creative attention. Annabel inwardly groaned every time she heard Neil pompously declare there was a time and place for everything.

“I shall miss him.”

The rueful note in Daniel Wolfe’s voice jolted her. He was human, after all. Not the cold, calculating machine she’d been building him into. It also forced her to realise she shouldn’t be judging Barry Wolfe as nothing but a two-faced rat.

There had been many sides to him. Despite his crookedness and lack of conscience about it, he’d been a very popular personality. He’d coloured people’s lives. Perhaps that was valued more highly than integrity by people who overlooked anything if they were being entertained by lively company.

“I’m sorry,” she said impulsively, then frowned over what seemed an insincerity. She didn’t regret Barry Wolfe’s death, though she was sorry about the loss his brother felt. Family was family, however black the sheep.

She felt Daniel Wolfe’s sharp glance at her. Disbelief? Scepticism? She kept her gaze trained ahead, telling herself she was wasting sympathy on him. He was out to get her. Something was niggling him and he wouldn’t rest until he had the answers he wanted.

They passed the bridge that led to the administration centre. Annabel thought about checking out of the resort. It wasn’t far to Port Douglas. Plenty of facilities there to give her a pleasant vacation. If Daniel Wolfe followed her, she’d know for certain he was pursuing a purpose.

“The last time I saw him was at a fund-raiser for his political party,” he said in quiet reminiscence. “Barry was in top form that night, working the crowd for hefty donations. I enjoyed watching him. He had a knack of making people feel good. Their faces lit up.”

Annabel kept her mouth firmly shut. They’d reached the parking area below the administrative building. She mentally measured the distance to the Long House. Only another five minutes until she could effect a reasonable parting from this troublesome man.

“I saw him talking to your sister.”

Alarm bells clanged through her mind. She clenched her teeth. No comment was the safest course. Let him spill out what he knew about Isabel.

“She seemed very taken with him.”

Her heart turned over. Had the sexual signals been obvious? Surely Isabel hadn’t been too indiscreet, or had she thought herself unobserved? Whatever suspicions Daniel Wolfe harboured, damage control had to be put in place. The need to divert this man’s dangerously acute perception, colour it differently, was immediate and critical.

She summoned up a fond smile and said, “Isabel responds warmly to everyone. She’s the perfect political wife for Neil. It balances his tendency towards aloofness.”

He ruminated over that as they crossed the public road that cut through the resort. Then he startled her by asking, “Have you always been protective of your sister?”

“Whatever made you think that?” she demanded, her eyes wide and innocent.

“Steel and putty.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He shook his head at her show of incomprehension. “You’re a very smart lady, Annabel Parker. Quite the most tantalising woman I’ve ever met. So many layers to peel.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“No.” A ruthless glint in his eyes. “You’re with me. Every step of the way.”

Annabel had the sense of a trap closing inexorably around her. Rebellion stirred. She stopped in the middle of the parking lot for passing tourists who wanted a drink or a meal in the Long House. There was no incoming or outgoing traffic. She stood stock-still, defying his assertion.

He stopped, too. He turned to her, one eyebrow raised in mocking challenge. “Something wrong?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re insufferably arrogant?”

He grinned. The transformation of his face from hard authority to dazzling magnetism was mesmerising. “Have you noticed how politicians always descend to personal abuse when they don’t have a good argument to defend their position?”

It took several seconds for the implication of his words to register. “I wasn’t arguing or defending anything. I was stating the literal truth,” she insisted tersely, fighting the compelling attraction of eyes sparkling with teasing lights.

“Ah, the truth!” He spoke with relish. “Are you afraid of it, Annabel?”

“No. But I don’t necessarily like what people do with it, Mr. Wolfe.”

“Call me Daniel. I have a passion for truth. I do hope you share it.”

He was dangerous. He could turn on a pin, dodge and weave and strike with devastating cunning and speed. The barrister who could turn black into white.

“I’m not sure I want to share anything with you, Mr Wolfe. I don’t know you.”

“At this point, you only need to know one thing about me. If one path is blocked, I find another.”

He was threatening her with going to Isabel. She sensed the ruthlessness behind the teasing challenge in his eyes. Would he care what he trampled on in going down that path? Isabel’s guilty conscience would make her an easy target for him. Then what damage would be done?

“Have dinner with me.” He flashed another disarming grin. “It’s always better to know the enemy.”

Annabel ignored the flutter in her heart and bluntly asked, “Are you my enemy?”

The grin turned into a whimsical smile. “Lovers would be more to my liking.”

It took Annabel’s breath away. This was no whimsy. He meant it. She could feel it, his desire—will—to peel back every layer of her until nothing was unknown to him.

Well, two could play at that game, she thought with reckless determination. As long as he was engaged with her, he would leave Isabel alone. But becoming lovers? A shiver of apprehension ran down her spine. Daniel Wolfe was not the kind of man who would be satisfied with anything less than everything. All the same, she would give him a hard run to the line he’d drawn, and maybe he’d back off in the end.

“I don’t take lovers lightly,” she warned.

“Neither do I.”

“Dinner I’ll accept.”

“It’s always exciting, embarking on a journey of discovery.”

“Yes.” Her eyes taunted his confidence. “A pity the reality rarely lives up to the anticipation, but the food is good here. I’m sure we’ll find something to enjoy.”

With an adrenaline rush at the thought of pitting wits with him over the next couple of hours, Annabel strode ahead, disdaining any fear of him. What was more, she would eat a good dinner even if she choked on every bite. She would not let Daniel Wolfe spoil anything!

CHAPTER FOUR

ANNABEL sipped the pina colada, enjoying the sweet creaminess of the tropical cocktail and the energy lift it gave her. She needed to be sparking on all cylinders in Daniel Wolfe’s company. Nevertheless, her primary aim was to appear relaxed and completely unruffled by the situation.

She had deliberately requested a table on the wooden deck by the pool. The atmosphere was more intimate but she preferred to be distanced from the busy comings and goings inside the Long House, where the main dining room catered for a large crowd of guests. The light out here was dimmer, provided only by small table lamps. Her need for a sense of privacy overrode any sense of intimacy Daniel Wolfe might draw from her choice.

With the business of studying menus and making their meal selections over and the waiters gone elsewhere, Annabel let her gaze drift idly around the exotic plants that provided a lush setting for the artistically curved swimming pool. This was Daniel Wolfe’s party. It was up to him to set the conversational ball rolling. In projecting the air of pleasing herself, she denied any anxiety or apprehension over his intrusion on the scene.

Silence didn’t worry her. The longer it went on the better, as far as she was concerned. She knew he was scrutinising her, trying to burrow under her skin, but that didn’t worry her, either. He could study her as much as he liked. With her face in shadow and turned away from him, he wouldn’t see much.

“You remind me very strongly of the young Katharine Hepburn,” he said bemusedly.

Other people had made the same comment. Annabel supposed she should be flattered by it, since she was not as fine-featured nor as beautiful as the famous actress. It was the wavy red hair, green eyes, high cheekbones and wide mouth that made the comparison inevitable. Secretly she wished simply to be herself. Sometimes, although she deeply loved her sister, being a twin made her feel she wouldn’t ever be a whole person in her own right.

She slowly slanted a sardonic smile at Daniel Wolfe. “Do you have the same aim as Spencer Tracy when he first met Katharine Hepburn?”

“What was it?”

“I believe she made a comment about him being too short for her. He reportedly replied he would soon cut her down to size.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It doesn’t apply.”

“Because you’re tall?”

“No. I wouldn’t like to see you diminished in any way.”

Her eyes mocked him. “What do you think you’ve been doing?”

It gave him pause for thought.

“Come, Mr. Wolfe. A man with a passion for truth should realise what he’s saying and how it will impact on the other person.”

“In what way have I offended you?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Diminished, not offended. Let’s be precise. In matters of truth, one must be precise.”

She enjoyed tossing his purpose in his face, making him examine his attitudes and behaviour before setting himself up as a judge. Besides, there were always so many interpretations of truth. It was often a highly personal thing. Even facts and figures could be twisted to suit someone’s preferred vision. Precision was not easily achieved.

He relaxed and smiled, and she thought he was enjoying the mental tussle she was provoking. “Tell me my crime,” he encouraged.

He really was extremely attractive when his expression lightened. For one wayward moment, Annabel imagined waking up in the morning with his smiling face on the pillow beside her. It had a strong appeal.

“Let’s try this scenario,” she invited, leaning forward to engage his concentration. “You take a woman you fancy to bed. There you are, all fired up with desire, and she says you’re the spitting image of your brother. Then she says you remind her strongly of Met Gibson, except your eyes are grey instead of blue. Are you still feeling good about having this woman beside you?”

“No. She’s not focused on the person I am.”

She grinned at him. “Feeling somewhat diminished, Daniel?”

He gave a wry laugh. “Guilty on two counts,” he agreed, conceding the argument to her.

She sat back, ridiculously pleased he had caught her point so quickly. Her eyes flirted with him. She was taking wicked pleasure in putting him on the spot. “I wouldn’t like a lover who didn’t make me feel uniquely special to him.”

Heart-tripping desire flashed out at her. “You are unique. Superficial likenesses are irrelevant to the person you are inside.”

She shook her head, trying to quell the treacherous response he evoked as she rebutted his opinion. “They’re not really irrelevant, you know. In some ways they shape the inner person.” Her mouth twisted ruefully. “Who knows how I would have developed if I hadn’t been a twin?”

“The strength of mind and inner fire would still be there,” he said with certainty.

“Is that what you see?”

“More like feel. I’d no sooner laid eyes on you than it hit me like a sledgehammer. I’ve never experienced so much concentrated mental and emotional power. A totally annihilating blast. It made me wonder if you were telepathic.”

Had it made him suspicious?

Annabel silently fretted over what might have been a telling overreaction to him that night at the motel. She had been under intense pressure to keep alert and make all the right responses, leaving no crack in her credibility. When he had stepped into the room, she’d been wound up tight, having already fielded a host of questions from the motel people, the ambulance officers, the police. Someone had tipped off the media, as well, and reporters were baying for blood outside.

One look at Daniel Wolfe and all her instincts had screamed, “Danger, threat.” Her mind had leapt into overdrive, instantly dictating, “Fight, eliminate.” He hadn’t said a word, yet she’d repelled him with all the power she could harness because...because she’d felt his power and it had disturbed her, distracted her, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted or disturbed. Not until Izzie was safe.

“Are you?” he asked.

The question meant nothing to her. She was still deeply involved in analysing her reaction to him, trying to explain it away. No other man had ever affected her like that. On the other hand, she’d never been in such a nerve-racking, life-and-death situation before.

“You don’t want to answer?” he appealed.

“Pardon?”

“Are you telepathic? It’s said that twins sometimes are with each other.”

She sighed. “There you go again, thinking of me as a twin.”

“But not as a carbon copy, Annabel. I would never mistake you for your sister.”

Warm pleasure flooded through her as his eyes reinforced his insistence that she was unique to him. Then she remembered the photograph, and her heart seized up. If he had it, could he tell the difference? Most people couldn’t with photographs. Her heart kicked into life again. One man’s personal opinion didn’t count as hard evidence. He’d need more than that to prove it was Isabel who had been with Barry Wolfe when he died.

If that was his intent.

Maybe it was just curiosity to know the truth.

Or was that hope speaking?

The soup was served. Its arrival was very timely. Annabel didn’t like the confusion in her mind. She felt a very strong tug of attraction towards Daniel Wolfe. The idea of exploring where they might go together was getting more seductive by the minute. If only their connection had been simple and straightforward. But it was impossible to ignore the complications involved in his identity and hers. She had to stay on guard.

Her mind wandered over the problems as they silently consumed the soup. The truth had to be suppressed. It could hurt too many people. Even if Neil Mason forgave Izzie’s lapse into temptation, he wouldn’t forget it. His trust in her would be shaken, which would erode the supportive nature of their relationship. This would inevitably rebound on the children, and what had been a happy and secure household would start snapping with tensions.

Izzie wouldn’t be able to bear it. She needed approval. She needed someone strong to lean on. That was why she’d married Neil Mason, a man twelve years older and imbued with the confidence of having all the answers to everything, a man who was more than prepared to take charge of his innocent, malleable young wife and direct her along the lines he considered right and proper.

Had Izzie fallen into the marriage because she didn’t know what else to do? She had only been twenty. Was it because Annabel had struck out on her own, determined to pursue interests her twin didn’t share, tired of suppressing them for Izzie’s sake?

Annabel had never voiced these private doubts. Although Neil’s pompous righteousness always irritated her, it had felt wrong to criticise a choice when it seemed to fulfil Izzie’s needs. However, if she was ruthlessly honest with herself, it had been a relief to pass the responsibility of propping up her sister onto Neil. She had overlooked his faults, wanting Izzie to be happy with him.

But was she?

To go to a motel with Barry Wolfe.

How much guilt did she bear in all this for effecting a separation from her twin to claim a life of her own, knowing Izzie’s dependence on continual support?

My other half, Annabel thought with a sense of helplessness. No escape from it. They were two sides of the same coin, different, yet joined to each other in an unbreakable mould that made up the whole. What kind of fate arranged such things? Or was it simply an unfortunate trick of nature? Why, in the split that had taken place to form two of them, was it ordained that one be strong and the other weak?

Steel and putty. Daniel Wolfe’s succinct summing up slid into her mind. How had he seen it so quickly? On such brief acquaintance?

Annabel wished it wasn’t true. She was always conscious that the division could have gone the other way, with Izzie being the strong one. She knew she could not turn her back on any cry for help from her sister. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be fair. It wasn’t Izzie’s fault that she couldn’t cope alone. It wasn’t really Annabel’s fault, either. It was just how it was.

“It must be a difficult relationship for you, being a twin.”

Annabel glanced up sharply, startled at how closely Daniel Wolfe’s remark echoed her thoughts. He had finished his soup and was sitting back, watching her. The. instant their eyes locked she knew he was satisfied he had guessed right. It gave her an eerie feeling. How had he perceived and understood what she had kept hidden from so many others, even her own family?

Her parents were so proud of their girls, Isabel’s marriage, Annabel’s career, never really seeing the downside of their duality. Her mother would still be parading them in the same clothes if she had her way, blindly unaware it had made them feel like show dolls, not real people at all.

She looked at her bowl of soup, her hand poised over it with the spoon, and realised she had been brooding over a plate she had emptied, bar a trickle of liquid and a sliver of onion. She couldn’t remember tasting what she had eaten.

Troubled at having somehow revealed her secret burden, she carefully set the spoon down and composed herself, deciding to take the initiative from Daniel Wolfe and carry out her own inquisition. His interest in her relationship with her sister was too touchy, better blocked.