Beneath Her Skin Read online

  “Do you think any of us in the world never lie to protect those we love?” Harry asked softly.

  Meeting his eyes, she frowned. “I think not mentioning that his late wife was my twin sister is huge. I’ll never know if he loves me for me, and not some replacement for my sister.”

  Harry nodded. “I understand, but you can’t think like that. You’re here now, not your sister. He loves you and honestly, I would have done the same thing.”

  Brooke softened. “Harry…”

  “Look, this may not be the right time, but I want to show you that men are sometimes dishonest, especially when they don’t want to hurt those they care about the most.”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  He hesitated a moment. “I’ve… been seeing someone.” He gave a lopsided grin, his cheeks reddening.

  “Harry, that’s hardly the same thing.”

  “Now, wait. Let me explain. I met Carmen down at the VA hospital and we’ve been dating for six months.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Six months? Why didn’t you mention this?”

  “Because I didn’t know what would come of it. I didn’t want you to worry about me if things didn’t work out.”

  She shook her head. “I still wouldn’t place you in Damon’s category, Uncle Harry. Not mentioning your girlfriend is hardly the same as withholding a life altering secret.”

  “Who says it’s not life altering?” he asked. “I could marry Carmen tomorrow.” He blew out a breath as her eyes expanded. “The point is I’ve lied too, and a lie is a lie, Lady Bug—no matter how you stretch it. You are as dear to me as a daughter, and I hate to think of any man hurting you, but I think he’s the real deal.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I know what it’s like to love you, and I don’t want to see you throw away a chance at happiness because he was afraid to lose you. Men do stupid stuff sometimes. Can you honestly tell me you would’ve understood if he had told you the whole truth?”

  A queasy feeling tightened. “I don’t know, Uncle Harry. I’d like to think I would have.”

  Harry lifted a hand and caressed her head and over her cheek. “Just talk to him, Lady Bug. Let him taste the bite of your anger, but also let him feel the strength of your compassion too. Healing comes quicker with forgiveness.” He gave her a quick hug, mentioning a morning flight and he left.

  Her hospital door opened and a well-dressed woman strode in. Damon concluded his call, and walked toward her. As they shook hands, he leaned closer to her, flashing his sexy smile. They obviously knew each other. A curl of jealousy ran through Brooke and she hated the feeling. She tried hard to feed her anger against him, but she failed. They walked closer and he made the introductions, but it seemed as if he was looking through her, not into her eyes. His indifference hurt more than her feet or the nightmare of last night.

  “Brooke, this Leanne Winthrop, my in-house attorney at S-Tec,” he said smoothly. “She’s here to give you something and go over a few details.” He turned to go.

  A chill settled over her. “Damon.”

  Would he walk away now? Never to return?

  For the first time since he arrived, his sea beauty eyes met hers. Pain lurked in the depths of his gaze and dark shadows circled his skin. He appeared hollow, like a shell of a man waiting for execution. Was this how he appeared before she met him? A deep seeded ‘yes’ echoed from the depths of her soul. Her disconnect with him fed his emptiness. Loving him made her feel that loss—that sting of surrender. As if, he gave up. Gave up on her.

  “I’ll be right outside.”

  Though his voice assured her, she felt him slipping farther away.

  Once alone, Leanne strode closer, stowing her briefcase on the side table. She flipped it open, retrieving a file. She was a petite woman with a bob haircut, the ends tipping her jawbone.

  “I know this is probably the worst time ever, but I wanted to discuss your inheritance. You may wonder about my quickness.”

  Brooke wrapped her arms around her middle, waiting. “Yes.”

  Leanne laid the file on the bed. “The attorney handling your case was another causality of Chantal Wilson-Elson.” Her lips pressed together a moment. “His cases were in the midst of relocation and I hurried to claim yours. Since I knew Mr. Sinclair’s wife, I thought I could be of service to you.”

  She inclined her head. “Thank you.”

  After an in-depth discussion of all the paperwork and signing a few documents with all the terms of her inheritance, Leanne handed her a letter with her name scrawled across the front.

  “This may help you more than anything. It’s a letter to you from your sister,” she said, laying the envelope in her lap. “If you have any questions, please call.” She placed a business card on the table, and then she left.

  Brooke stared at the letter, her heart pounding. With shaky hands, she opened it.

  Dearest Brooke,

  If you are reading this, misfortune must have led you here and for that—I apologize. My name is Olivia Marie Kindell Sinclair—and I am your sister. Yes, you read that correctly—sister. Twins in fact, although under the strangest of circumstances. I apologize for not coming forward sooner, but I was afraid. Perhaps that conclusion was wrong of me, but I could not share my new findings with anyone... not even with my husband, Damon.

  I discovered your existence by accident and I can hardly describe the feeling, but I could not work up the courage to contact you.

  I am so sorry.

  Our parents, Farrah and Stephen Kindell could never have children naturally, so they sought medical help. I learned that Farrah couldn’t conceive, and she asked her sister, Chantal, to donate on her behalf. Then, our embryo split and they decided to implant one in Farrah and store the other for a later time. Only, they never retrieved you. By chance or blessing, ten years after my birth, your embryo was implanted into another woman. We are twin sisters, my dear Brooke.

  I asked Damon to watch over you. He is a good man, and he has a heart of love and sweetness. You see, I had to give Damon time to grieve. I thought that perhaps a year and a half after my death would help him recover. I’m sure meeting you will be a shock for him, but please allow him time. He’ll watch over you and care for you. He’d never intentionally hurt you.

  Please accept the money as an offering from my sisterly heart—and know that I have loved you from afar.

  With deepest affection,

  Olivia

  Laying back against the pillows, Brooke clutched the letter to her chest. Tears traced down her cheeks. Her sister’s words were like a dagger in the heart: He’d never intentionally hurt you. Her sister had lived and loved Damon, but only one of them could claim him now. Brooke knew she had one chance left before he walked out of her life forever.

  She prayed he would come see her soon, and her eyes closed, still clutching her sister’s letter.

  ****

  Brooke blinked her eyes opened, and realized night had fallen. Jennifer sat beside her, looking through her phone.

  Where was Damon?

  She half expected him to be here.

  Her friend glanced up and smiled. “Hey, doll face. How are you feeling?”

  Jennifer appeared better after her attack. “Okay. How about you?”

  She waved her off. “I’m well, though my ribs are still giving me grief, but I was released today. I should be home resting, but when Damon told me you were here, I couldn’t leave.” She sighed. “I probably need to go soon. My mom is waiting, but I wanted to check on you.”

  Brooke licked her lips, feeling lost. “Did… Damon tell you what happened?”

  “Yes, God, I’m so sorry you went through that, hon.” Her friend reached forward, squeezing her arm.

  She nodded. “Is Damon still here?” The twisting in her stomach told her he wasn’t, but she had to know.

  Jennifer gave a sad smile. “No. He said he couldn’t put you through any more pain. He said he
had done enough,” she said gently. “I tried to reason with him and I asked him to wait, but he didn’t think you’d want to see him ever again. I’ve never seen a man look so lost. It broke my heart.”

  Tears stung Brooke’s eyes. “What do I do, Jennifer?” she whispered. “He walked away before talking to me. And I’m trapped here.” She waved a hand over her bandaged feet.

  Her friend stood, wincing a little and held her ribs. She leaned forward, holding her gaze. “When you get out of here, you go fight for him.”

  She gave a half shrug. “I don’t think he cares.”

  Jennifer stiffened. “I saw him, baby doll. He was a walking zombie, playing the honor card for the sake of your happiness,” she said, raising her chin. “If you love him, then when you get out of here, you have it out with him.”

  “It’s not a question of my love,” she snapped, but hastily amended her response. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little on edge.”

  “That’s understandable, doll face. You’ve been through a lot.”

  Brooke was thoughtful a moment. “What if he pushes me away? I don’t think I’ll survive his rejection.”

  “He won’t.”

  But Brooke wasn’t convinced.

  Three more days went by. Antoine and Bev from S-Tec came to see her. Jake from Ascent, but Damon had not come back. She had more or less talked herself out of going to see him. When Harry arrived to pick her up from the hospital, the shape of a man drew her attention. He sat in the familiar Hummer across the hospital parking lot.

  Donavan.

  So, Damon did care enough to send his security team. A small measure of hope bloomed inside her. She asked Harry to roll her over to the Hummer and leave her there. When he frowned, she said she had a plan to see Damon.

  As she drew closer, a muscle twitched in Donavan’s jaw as he stared at her from behind his aviator sunglasses. This was her chance. If anyone knew where Damon was, he did.

  Drawing a deep breath, she pinned Donavan with a cool stare. “Where is Damon?”

  He winced. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stone. I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Harry leaned over her shoulder. “Are you good here, Lady Bug?”

  She flashed him a smile. “Yes. I’ll call you later.”

  He straightened, firing off a salute to Donavan. “Take good care of her, son.” Then he strode away.

  “Wait!” Donavan exploded. “You can’t just leave her here!”

  Brooke raised an eyebrow. “He just did. Now, are you going to let me bake in the hot sun? Or are you going to take me to Damon?”

  Donavan cursed under his breath, flinging his door open. “I can’t believe I just got hustled by a woman and an old man.”

  “Look on the bright side,” she said, as he helped her into the Hummer.

  He gave her a sardonic look. “I doubt there is one, but let’s hear it.”

  “At least you’ll know where I’ll be.”

  With another curse, he slammed the Hummer door, and then slid into the driver’s seat. “I’m not pacified. Mr. Sinclair doesn’t like surprises,” he murmured, starting the vehicle, and threw it into gear. “I’ll be lucky to have a job after this.”

  “Then, I’ll hire you. I might need a bodyguard.”

  He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Thanks.”

  Brooke expected a long drive to Washington, D.C., but Donavan pulled in front of a hotel, not far from the hospital. “He’s here?”

  “Yes,” he said, shutting off the Hummer. “Stay put. I’ll go see if they have a wheelchair.”

  Sure enough, Donavan wheeled out a chair for her, helping her sit. “How will I get into his room? I doubt he’ll let me in, if I knock.”

  He sighed, handing her a key card. “It’s standard protocol. I always have the second card.”

  She took the card, caressing the shiny face. “If this works, I’ll put in a good word.”

  He grunted. “And if it doesn’t?”

  “My offer still stands. I’ll hire you.”

  “We’ll see, Ms. Stone.” Donavan rolled her inside the hotel, bypassing the usual elevator. He pointed to the box. “Run the card through.” As she complied, he pushed the up button and said, “He’s staying in the penthouse. Good luck.”

  Brooke knew she’d need more than luck. She prayed for a miracle.

  Chapter 15

  Damon sat in the hospital cafeteria, nursing some orange juice. His thoughts were jumbled. And he felt like a heel. He hadn’t been to see Brooke, though he wanted nothing more than march up to her room. Never one to run from his problems, his actions surprised him. He just didn’t want to hurt her. She had been through enough.

  “Hey man. Why are you here?”

  He glanced up, finding Antoine beside his table. Dressed in his familiar suit, the guy looked impeccable as always. Without answering him directly, he said, “Don’t you own a pair of jeans?”

  Antoine rolled his eyes. “This isn’t about me,” he said, claiming a seat across from Damon. “Why are down here sulking in your OJ?” He frowned, eying his glass. “Or what I hope is plain orange juice.”

  Damon glared. “It is.”

  His assistant leaned back in his chair, running his hand over the table edge. “Still… I think this table is sturdy enough to withstand one of your binders, so feel free.”

  A muscle clenched in his jaw. “Why are you here?”

  Antoine grinned. “I came to see Ms. Stone and Bev tagged along.’

  He nodded. “How is she?” His face ashen.

  “Bev? She’s great.” Antoine shook his head. “Ms. Stone? Nope, I’m not telling you,” he said, leaning forward. “You need to go see her. Besides her injuries, she looks like you: sad. Get up there and work this out.”

  His chest expanded and he released his breath slowly. “I failed her, Antoine. I feel like if I move any closer to her, and she’ll shatter.”

  Antoine cursed under his breath, rolling his neck as if tense. “I’d love to kick your ass right now, but since I can’t, I’ll share the latest.” He adjusted the lapels of his jacket.

  Damon lifted an eyebrow. “What latest? I don’t think I can take more bad news.”

  “Two things,” he said, holding up two fingers. “Senator Elson called the office.”

  Chantal’s husband.

  A shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “Let me guess? He’d like for me to give the eulogy at Chantal’s funeral.”

  “No,” Antoine said. “He was sincerely apologetic and asked if there was anything he could do to make amends.”

  Snorting a laugh, Damon plowed his hands through his hair. “Yes, he can. Stay away from Brooke.”

  His assistant gave a curt nod. “I said as much and he apologized again.” He plucked at the cuff of his shirt. “And the final piece to the puzzle? Remember when you asked me have a security team follow Jim Bartley?”

  Damon inclined his head, sneering. “Let me guess, it never happened.” Another order Kirk never followed.

  Antoine sighed. “I spoke with Donavan and he said he wasn’t informed and never sent a team.”

  “Which means, Kirk had opportunity to drag Bartley off and kill him, all the while humming in my ear with what I wanted to hear.” Damon looked away, fighting all kinds of anger. The only redeeming feature was that Kirk couldn’t hurt anyone else.

  “Take some time off,” Antoine said. “I’ll run interference for you at the office. Now that Kirk is gone, Hugo mentioned wanting to do a complete security overhaul too. Reinforce some weaknesses.”

  Damon’s face contorted with anger. “You mean, Kirk is dead. One of Donavan’s men put a bullet in him.” And he couldn’t be happier.

  Antoine whistled through his teeth. “Look you all wrapped up in anger.” He leaned closer, dropping his voice, “Beating yourself up is pointless. Everything has been set to rights and you need to go get your girl.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Damon said flatly, relaxing back against his chair, throwing an arm over the empty seat
next to him. “I didn’t think you were Brooke’s biggest fan. Why the change of heart?”

  “I was worried, man. You barely recovered after the loss of your wife. Now I’m worried you’ll fall into that hole again, but this time you won’t return.”

  He drummed his fingers on the table, and then smacked the table as he stood. “Thanks for the pep talk, but I don’t need to hear this.” He turned to go, but Antoine’s final comment made him pause.

  “She’s hurting too, Damon.”

  He wanted nothing more than to go to her room and beg for forgiveness. But would that ensure her trust? He doubted it. He honestly thought Brooke would be better off if he walked away. She needed to move on with her life.

  As he left the hospital, he asked Donavan to watch over her. He headed back to his hotel, thinking a few hours of intense exercise would be better than drowning his sorrows.

  ****

  Damon appeared in the doorway of his bedroom, and Brooke’s breath caught. He looked as if he had recently showered, working a towel through his hair. Shirtless, his muscles gleamed in the light. Every succulent cord of muscle was up for display, wearing drawstring pants. She was captivated. Physically, he was gorgeous, but it was more than that. He drew her closer to the fire that burned inside her. The lure to be his. The ache to find heaven in his arms. She enjoyed his closeness, his safety, and his love.

  She wanted all of him.

  He paused, looking up. A scowl appeared between his brows. “Donavan is fired.”

  Brooke remained unmoving, and she was afraid to breathe. Her lungs worked hard, pushing the air in and out fast. Her head swam. She nearly wanted to faint.

  Damon strode closer, tossing his damp towel on the back of a chair. His jaw flexed, and his face darkened as he peered at her. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said gruffly. He kept walking, nearly passing her.

  She caught his scent. His manly freshness curled inside her, making her remember every touch he gave her—every sweet effect of his tongue over her skin. He was her first and her last lover—the man of her heart. No one else would take his place. No matter the mistakes standing between them, she wouldn’t leave here without fighting—for him.