“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 journalist father had taught him never to ignore a burning gut. Treat it with antacids, maybe, but pay close attention. After the last fiasco, Doug damn well would.
Doug wasn’t green and knew to be on the lookout for an unreliable source. Problem was he’d never thought to distrust so close to home and when his latest story had come crashing down around him he’d been taken off guard. His adopted father, a journalist and a man respected by all, had trained him to be the best. Yet Doug’s fall from grace had been swift and as public as his damning headline about Congressman Haywood’s meeting with a reputed Mob boss and the laundering of money through a supposed legitimate coffee business.
The congressman was the business partner of Juliette Stanton’s fiancé, the man aspiring to her father’s senate seat. A man, Doug thought, who was just as corrupt as his partner. Doug still believed his story was true. He just didn’t have the proof he needed to back up his story or support his claim. Proof he was certain Juliette Stanton possessed.
Doug ran a hand through his collar-length, windblown hair-another part of this charade. No haircut, no shave until after his time on the island was through. After he was certain Senator Stanton’s daughter wouldn’t recognize him from the more clean-cut picture in his Tribune column.
A week on this tropical island wouldn’t be a hardship if his father wasn’t still in the hospital. Though he’d normally enjoy paradise, Doug had to follow up on this latest tip regarding Juliette and get the hell out. A tip he believed no one else had. And with some serious cash in the right hands he hoped to be the only one who knew Juliette had left town. The only one to spend an uninterrupted week alone with the Runaway Bride-once he got the final okay from Merrilee. She hadn’t thrown him off the island when he’d shown up in time to coincide with Juliette’s visit, but he knew he was on probation.
He’d paid good money to an old military pal of his father’s to dig hard and deep until he broke Merrilee’s security system and came up with the information Doug needed-Juliette Stanton’s fantasy. And in the process, he’d discovered the woman was hurting and he’d been forced to accept some of the blame.
No matter how he consoled himself with truth-that his fantasy would help Juliette Stanton forget her pain, and that he wasn’t out to hurt her-the fact remained, he was using another woman for information. Again.