Ellen James - Christmas Babies

“I have a sister, Bryan.”

He shrugged. “Lots of people have sisters.”

Danni took a deep breath, steeling herself. “A twin sister. You’ve…you’ve met her.”

He was getting the picture now. She could see it in his eyes. But his expression was unreadable. She would have preferred his anger, his outrage.

She didn’t know how long they would’ve remained like this, frozen in a dreadful tableau. But then the front door opened, and heels clicked across the oak floor.

“Bryan? Bryan, I hope you’re here—” Kristine appeared in the arch to the living room. And then she, too, froze as she glanced from Bryan to Danni and back again. Bryan faced them both.

Identical twin sisters!

Dear Reader,

What would it be like to have a twin? That’s something I’ve often asked myself. I’m very close to my two sisters, but I can’t help wondering what it would be like to have an identical twin. Would I find the similarities comforting? Or would I rebel against them?

These are the questions I’ve explored while writing Christmas Babies. Danni Ferris has tried as hard as she can to establish her own identity, her own life. But sibling closeness—and sibling rivalry—keep getting in the way. Especially when Danni and her identical twin sister fall in love with the same man…

I hope you enjoy reading Danni’s story—and meanwhile I wish you a joyful holiday season!

Sincerely,

Ellen James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

THE MAN WAS even more attractive than Danni had remembered. Dark brown eyes, darker hair…decisive features, a look of unassailable confidence. Bryan McKay also gave the impression that he appreciated the humor in a situation. Right now he was gazing at Danni with the faintest of smiles.

“You work fast,” he said.

She flushed. Maybe she was being a little overenthusiastic. There’d been no answer when she’d knocked at Bryan’s half-open door. And so she had wandered inside his house, started to get familiar with the place. A few moments later he’d appeared and found her in this rather awkward position, kneeling on the floor of the living room, her tape measure skittering out across the baseboard. She became uncomfortably aware of her less than professional appearance—windblown hair, denim shirt, canvas shorts, work boots. Ordinarily she met clients wearing a suit and heels. But today’s business…well, it wasn’t ordinary.

Danni had first seen Bryan a few months ago, when she’d joined Partner to Partner, a volunteer association of San Diego executives. Since then they’d had a few casual conversations at luncheons, charity dinners and the like. Bryan had mentioned the house he’d recently purchased, and its need for remodeling. Danni had mentioned her longtime dream of doing exactly that—remodeling a house with her own two hands. Of course, she’d told Bryan, her advertising career left no time for dreams. He’d told her not to be so sure. And then last week—unexpectedly—he’d called her, proposing this meeting. Maybe Danni could take on Bryan’s house. They would discuss the idea, anyway.

“I guess I got ahead of myself,” she admitted now, reeling in her tape measure. “It’s just that ever since my Grandpa Daniel taught me how to use a miter saw, I’ve wanted to do some real carpentry work.”

Bryan merely stood there watching her, his gaze lingering. She couldn’t deny that she’d been attracted to him during their brief encounters in the past.

“I’m sure,” Danni said, “what you really want is a professional contractor—”

“First rule,” Bryan said. “Don’t sell yourself short. Didn’t they teach you that in advertising school?”

Danni grimaced. “It would be different if I were trying to sell you on an ad campaign—”

“Because it wouldn’t matter to you nearly as much,” he interrupted.

The insight surprised her, and unsettled her, too. “I guess we should discuss specifics,” she said, trying to sound brisk. But suddenly Bryan walked toward her, took her hand and drew her up beside him. He had an air of knowing what he wanted. And his eyes seemed to say that right now he wanted her.

“Ridiculous,” Danni muttered under her breath. Why was her imagination suddenly running away with her? She was usually very levelheaded.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured now. She felt an odd sense of unease, small details intruding on the edge of her consciousness: the warm breeze stirring through the open window beside her, the dusty surface of the oak floors…the look in the man’s eyes. Bryan drew her toward him, and then he put his arms around her and kissed her.

It was a firm kiss, a taking of possession kiss, his lips sending delight to the contours of hers. Her first instinct was, of course, to push him away. Yet somehow she found herself leaning toward him…leaning into him, a swirl of sensations catching her off guard. Desire, longing, confusion…

Impossible. This couldn’t be happening. A man’s arms, a man’s touch…a man she hardly knew, making her feel as if she had come alive more than at any time she could remember.

Something thudded to the floor. It took Danni a few seconds to realize that she’d dropped her tape measure. She pulled away from him at last. He smiled at her. Perhaps the kiss had ended, but his eyes held a promise of more.

“I’ve been waiting to do that all day,” he said.

“All day…?”

“After last night, Danni, I’ve been waiting.” He took her into his arms again. But now Danni understood his words—and his actions—all too well. She felt a coldness deep inside, and then she just felt angry. There was only one explanation for this sexy, magical moment.

Kristine.

“I DON’T SEE WHY you’re so upset. It’s only a game, Danni. The same one we’ve always played,” Kristine remarked several hours later.

Danni scowled at her twin sister, studying the face so much like her own she might as well have been looking into a mirror: blue-green eyes, a mouth just a shade too generous, a high forehead resolutely undisguised. In college Kristine and Danni had gone through a phase where they’d tried to minimize their foreheads with bangs. Kristine had been the one finally to let her blond hair grow out. Danni, as usual, had followed her sister’s lead. But she was no longer the follower.

“We’re a little old for that joke, don’t you think?” she said acidly. “Switching places, trying to fool everyone we can. Dammit, Kris, you told him you were me. Used my name—”

“Well, I couldn’t very well use my own, could I? After all, I’m a married woman. Supposedly, anyway.” Kristine used her flippant tone, but she couldn’t quite hide the misery shadowing her expression. Danni felt an unwilling stir of sympathy. Some things apparently didn’t change: the way she hated to see Kristine unhappy for any reason, the fierce protectiveness she’d always felt toward her sister.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong between you and Ted,” Danni said. “What’s the real problem here?”

Kristine glanced away. “Ted is just…Ted. Nothing to be done about him. That’s what Mom always says, anyway.”