The Elliotts: Secret Affairs: The Forbidden Twin

“I can’t believe you beat me by thirteen strokes,” Cullen muttered as they rode the elevator to John’s apartment late Saturday afternoon after a long day golfing. “How long has it been since you played?”

John smiled leisurely. “I told you. The last time you and I played. October, I think.”

“You didn’t squeeze in a round or two while you were in L.A. last month?”

“Nope. But conditions weren’t the best today.”

“Don’t be condescending.”

John grinned as they exited the elevator and walked down the hall. Usually a prankster, Cullen had seemed to be forcing jokes all day, so John hesitated before he spoke again, not knowing whether he should discuss what he’d observed.

“You did seem off your game,” he said finally. “And distracted. Woman trouble?”

“Women,” Cullen scoffed. “Sometimes I wonder if they’re worth the effort.”

“Amen.”

“Although I don’t ever question it when I’m in bed with one.”

John laughed. As he opened the door, an incredible scent rushed at him. Garlic. Basil. Something Italian.

Cullen sniffed the air, making appreciative sounds. “I hope I’m staying for dinner.”

Scarlet must be there.

“Sorry, Cullen,” John said, upping his normal volume. “Private party.”

He heard a soft scampering sound and talked over it, hoping Cullen hadn’t noticed. “I’ll get that book you wanted.”

“Don’t I get to meet the chef?”

“I’ll check.” He walked into the kitchen and looked around. A pot of red sauce simmered on the stove, the source of the mouthwatering aroma. A salad was half prepared. And a pair of spiky black heels lay jumbled on the floor.

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