Kathryn Shay - The Unknown Twin

The firefighter’s hair was damp. He smelled like soap and citrus aftershave, despite the fact that there was still a growth of beard on his jaw. His smile was thousand watt as it broke through the shadow. “Hey, how’s our girl?”

Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes. This was ridiculous. “I’m fine, but I think you have me confused with someone else.”

The nurse and firefighter exchanged worried looks.

“Dana.” He picked up her hand again with that same tenderness as before. “Are you playing another one of your practical jokes on us?”

She shook her head.

As if he had a right to, the guy brushed the long bangs out of her eyes. His fingertips were callused. “And when did you cut all your hair off?”

“About twenty-five years ago,” she said dryly.

The nurse frowned. “Dana, does your head hurt?”

“Look, I’m not Dana.” Discomfited, she picked at the hospital sheet. “But in any case, thanks for rescuing me.”

“You know you were in a fire at the newspaper office. You remember that, don’t you?” The man’s tone was patronizing but concerned. “What were you doing there at three in the morning?”

“I work there.”

After exchanging another look with the firefighter, the nurse said, “Alex, maybe she got hit on the head.”

The man—Alex—raised his dark brows, and his eyes, the color of aged whiskey, narrowed. “Don’t you know who I am?” he said.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Call Doc Murdock.”

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“A psychiatrist.”

“Look, I don’t need a psychiatrist. I know who I am. Lauren Conway. I just moved here from Benicia.”

Alex ran a big hand through his hair. If she had the chance, she’d paint the color with different tones of brown and gold to achieve his natural color. She’d call the painting “Confused Hero.”

He took her hand again. “Honey, no more jokes. We’re worried about you.”

“This isn’t a joke. Look in my purse. At my driver’s license.”

“You don’t carry a purse!”

“Of course I do. It’s got all my stuff in it.”

They just stared at her. She felt her heartbeat speed up. Whipping back the sheets, she made to get up but went into a fit of coughing.

Jackie stepped around Alex and stopped her. “Here, sweetie, get back in bed.” She eased Lauren against the pillows and started to draw up the covers.

But Alex held up his hand. “Wait a minute.” He grabbed hold of her left foot. “What’s this?”

Lauren felt uncomfortable. Right above her ankle, she had a small brown spot which resembled a leaf. “It’s a birthmark.”

“Dana’s birthmark is on her right foot,” Alex said. “But it looks just like this.”

“I told you, I am not Dana!”

Awareness dawned on Jackie’s face. “Wow. Except for your hair, you’re a dead ringer for Dana Ivie. She’s a friend and a firefighter on Alex’s squad.”

Alex peered closely at her. “Not exactly.” He reached out and tipped her chin. “Your features are more delicate. I can see that now that it’s light out and you’ve cleaned up.” He stared hard into her eyes. “And your eyes are a shade darker.”

Jackie frowned. “How could this be?”

Alex shook his head. Whipping out his cell phone, he punched in numbers. “Give me the San Diego Days Inn.” He looked at the nurse, then back to Lauren again. “Yeah, hi. Dana Ivie’s room, please.”

Lauren hugged the bedsheet closer to her chin.

After a moment, Alex’s eyes widened. “Dana? Is that you?” He chuckled. “Nothing, I just wanted to make sure…okay, okay, I know it’s seven. Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep.”

He clicked off.

“She’s there?” Jackie asked.

“Uh-huh.” He turned his interesting eyes on the patient. “So, Lauren Conway. Do you know you have a twin?”

“No. But I gather this Dana looks like me.”

Alex cocked his head, then reached around into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He leafed through several pictures before he stopped, pulled one out and handed it to her.

Lauren looked down. In the picture was a woman with long luscious hair and curves to die for outlined in a wild-print bikini. She held a surfboard and leaned on the smiling, sun-burnished man whose arm was around her. The man was Alex.

The woman looked exactly like Lauren.

The similarity made her light-headed and caused her heart to trip. What was going on here?

“THIS REALLY WASN’T necessary.” Lauren, dressed in baggy hospital scrubs, turned in the front seat of Alex’s Blazer to face him. She’d showered before she was released and her hair curled softly around her face. He didn’t know if she normally wore makeup, but without it, he could see the few freckles smattering her nose. Just like Dana’s. It was hard to believe she wasn’t related to his friend. “But I appreciate it.”

“I don’t mind. I was on my way home, anyway.”

“Still, it was nice of you.” She coughed. “I didn’t feel like driving.”

“Smoke inhalation can be bad. You should take it easy today.” He reached for the door handle. “The landlord said he’d meet you here, right?”

“Yeah.” She glanced down at her watch; her wrist so slender he’d be able to encircle it with his fingers. She touched the timepiece lovingly.

“A special possession?” he asked.

“My mother gave it to me.”

“Does she live in Courage Bay?”

“She and my father were both killed in an accident.” A shadow crossed her pretty eyes. “A little over a year ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave Alex a half smile that did something to his insides. It was a smile similar to Dana’s when she was being soft and feminine. “At least the watch was spared in the fire.”

He smiled. “You’ll probably get your purse back. The flames were contained to the east side of the building. Smoke damage is the worst your office got, and that can be cleaned up.”

“Thank God I’d moved out of the side that burned. I’m lucky, I guess.”

“Well, at least you weren’t hurt badly.”

“When do you think I’ll be able to move back into my office?”

“As soon as the arson team finishes.”

Her eyes widened. “Arson team?”

“Yeah, we couldn’t determine the cause of the fire, so the arson investigator, Sam Prophet, was called in. It could have been an incendiary blaze.”

“That means set intentionally, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

She shivered.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Rounding the car, he opened her door and helped her stand. She was trembling. It was about seventy degrees, warm enough at eight o’clock in the morning. “You cold?”

She rubbed her bare arms. “A little.”

“Shell-shocked, I’d guess.”

“It’s sinking in.” She peered up at him with doe eyes. “I could have died in that fire.”

That was true. People slept through fires and never woke up.

Something made him slide his arm around her. Just a little human compassion, he guessed. Still, it felt good when she leaned into him. She was slight—a lot slighter than Dana. That had registered when he’d carried her down the ladder, but didn’t make sense until now.

And she was a lot more fragile. Alex was accustomed to being around women who could beat him now and then at racquetball or who were at least worthy opponents in pickup beach volleyball.

The landlord pulled up, inquired after Lauren’s well-being, unlocked the house, then left them alone. She turned in the doorway. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she smiled at Alex. “What do you say to a man who saved your life?” she asked softly. Her voice was different from Dana’s, too—mellower, more feminine—but her speech patterns were the same.