Amanda Stevens - The Brother's Wife

“He’s always been more than that and you know it. That’s why you hate him.”

His brows rose in derision. “He’s a cop, Hope. Which is exactly why you broke off your engagement to him, remember?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I remember.”

“He’s nothing,” Andrew spat.

He’s more than you’ll ever be, Hope thought, then realized in horror that she’d spoken the words aloud.

Something changed in Andrew’s eyes, a resolution that was almost as frightening as his anger. “So. The truth finally comes out.”

She couldn’t have said anything that would have wounded Andrew more deeply. Jake McClain had always been a thorn in her husband’s side. The two of them had been playmates as children, fiercely competitive even back then—Andrew with the Kingsley wealth and power backing him, and Jake with nothing more than a chip on his shoulder and a fierce determination to someday get away from the shadow of the Kingsley mansion.

In spite of all the advantages Andrew had grown up with, it was Jake who had become something of a local hero, excelling in athletics in both high school and college. It was Jake who had known exactly what he wanted in life and attacked his ambitions with a vengeance, while Andrew had drifted from day to day, restless and discontented, with no aim in life other than to own the fastest cars and to be seen with the most beautiful women.

It was Jake Hope had fallen in love with, and for that, Andrew had never forgiven her.

“I won’t give you up,” he warned.

“You don’t have a choice,” she retorted. “Our marriage has been over for a long time. Just let it go.”

“I won’t let him have you.” Andrew tried to touch her, but Hope jerked away. His eyes darkened. “I’ll see you both dead first.”

She stared up at him, hating the sight of him, hating herself for the life she’d given up ten years ago. Her anger, always hidden beneath the surface, bubbled over, hot and fierce, before she could stop it. “I’d rather be dead than to stay married to you!” she screamed.

He looked stunned for a moment, then his smile chilled her to the bone. “Careful what you wish for, Hope.”

He turned and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him. Within moments, she heard his car roaring down the driveway, and all Hope could think was that she was glad he was gone. She wished she would never have to see him again.

“Careful what you wish for, Hope.”

As those images once again stormed through her, Hope shivered. The breeze had picked up, stirring the scent of the roses. The sky, clear moments before, was now dotted with clouds. A lacy filigree covered the moon, deepening the shadows in the garden beyond the pool. Suddenly, Hope had the strangest sensation that she was being watched from the darkness.

“Jake?” she whispered, but the night remained ominously silent.

Unsettled by her thoughts, Hope turned and sought the shelter of her bedroom, closing and locking the French doors behind her.

The morning after Michael Eldridge’s visit dawned warm and sunny, and when Hope came downstairs, she found Iris breakfasting on the terrace. She was alone at the table, reading the paper and sipping her coffee.

“Where is everyone?” Hope sat down and unfolded her napkin.

“Jeremy has already left for the office, I believe, and my son and his wife are sleeping in. As usual.”

Even though Edward and Pamela had been married for over thirty years and had lived in the same house with Iris for most of that time, she never referred to her daughter-in-law as anything other than “my son’s wife.” Iris hadn’t approved of Edward’s second marriage, coming such a short time after his first wife had died of cancer when Andrew and Adam were three years old, and because of her disapproval, Pamela was not and never would be considered a Kingsley, just as her son would never be Iris’s heir.

A maid appeared, bringing fresh coffee and orange juice. Iris laid the paper aside and glanced out at the gardens. “Gerald is at work early this morning, I see.”

“He always is,” Hope said, following Iris’s gaze. Her heart thudded against her chest when she saw that Jake was with his father. They were working near the reflecting pool, tearing down an old rock garden that Iris had decided a few days ago was an eyesore.

“Hope,” she said. “Go out there and stop them.”

Hope glanced at her. “What? Why? They’re doing exactly what you told them to do.”

“I’m aware of that. But I’ve changed my mind. The rock garden was Andrew’s favorite place to play when he was a little boy. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please go tell Gerald I wish to see him.”

Hope rose, knowing that arguing would be futile. When Iris made up her mind, there was no talking her out of it.

Leaving the terrace, Hope walked down the sloping lawn toward the rock garden. Morning sunlight glinted off the surface of the reflecting pool, temporarily blinding her. She shaded her eyes as she approached Jake and his father.

What had once been an artful arrangement of rock and plants was now in complete disarray. The two men must have been working for hours already, because the job was almost completed.

As Hope watched, Jake, his muscles bulging with the weight, picked up one of the last remaining stones and carried it to a wheelbarrow. He’d taken off his shirt, and a sheen of sweat glistened along his backbone. Hope felt something stir inside her, a warning that told her to state her business, then get away from there as fast as she could, before she had time to remember.

But it was too late, because when Jake turned back around he saw her. Their gazes held for the longest moment, and it flashed through Hope’s mind that here was a man she had once been engaged to. A man she had once hurt very deeply. A man who despised the path she had chosen for her life.

As if reading her mind, Jake studied her for a moment, taking in the designer dress she wore, the gleam of gold at her wrist and throat, and then wordlessly he turned his back on her and resumed his work.

Hope felt as if he’d slapped her. A part of her wanted to hate him for it even as another part of her realized she probably deserved it. The last time she and Jake had met face-to-face was when he’d come to question her after Andrew’s death.

In the throes of guilt for the terrible things she’d said to her husband on the night he died, Hope had lashed out at Jake, accusing him of trying to exact revenge on a dead man. But in the weeks and months that followed, Hope had come to realize that Jake had been right. Her husband had been a man of secrets. Dark and deadly secrets.

And now another man claiming to be Andrew’s twin brother, a man who seemed to have secrets of his own, had come back into their lives just when Hope thought she might be able to put the past behind her. Now she wondered if she would ever be able to do that.

“Mr. McClain?”

Jake’s father glanced up and smiled. “Miss Hope. What brings you down here?”

Was it Hope’s imagination, or had he cast a furtive glance toward his son?

Jake didn’t look up from his work, but Hope saw his expression darken at the way his father had addressed her. At one time, Gerald McClain had almost been her father-in-law, and now here he was, addressing her as though she were the mistress of the manor.

Hope had never felt as uncomfortable with her position in the Kingsley household as she did at that moment. She’d never felt as if she belonged here, amid all this wealth and grandeur, but now she realized she didn’t belong in her old world, either.

Where, exactly, did she belong?

Jake stopped what he was doing and glared at her. “Well? Was there something you wanted, Hope?”