Caught in a double bind
of family loyalty and desire.
She must save her brothers wedding
without falling for a forbidden stranger!
Layla Gillen needs to focus! But while tracking down her brothers runaway bride-to-be, she gets sidetracked herself, falling into bed with hotel mogul Max Kendrick. Too bad his twin is the one who seduced the bride-to-be! Now Layla must choose between betraying her brother and pursuing forbidden passion. And Max can be very persuasive
New York Times Bestselling Author Barbara Dunlop
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author BARBARA DUNLOP has written more than forty novels for Mills & Boon, including the acclaimed Chicago Sons series for Mills & Boon Desire. Her sexy, lighthearted stories regularly hit bestseller lists. Barbara is a three-time finalist for the Romance Writers of Americas RITA® Award.
Also by Barbara Dunlop
Sex, Lies and the CEO
Seduced by the CEO
A Bargain with the Boss
His Stolen Bride
From Temptation to Twins
Twelve Nights of Temptation His
Temptation, Her Secret
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
The Twin Switch
Barbara Dunlop
www.millsandboon.co.uk
THE TWIN SWITCH
© 2020 Barbara Dunlop
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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For Susie Ross:
Thanks for the inspiration!
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
About the Publisher
One
If I could choose my own sister, it would be Brooklyn.
She made me laugh.
Better still, she made me think. And when things went bad, which they often did, shed lie down beside me on my blue silk comforter and listen for hours. She knew when the fix was ice cream and when it was tequila.
She was smart, too. She got straight As right from elementary school.
Me, I was more of a B-plus person. But I was a pretty good listener. And I could twist a mean French braid, which Brooklyn liked.
She had long blond hair and beautiful blue eyes. She tanned, too. We both tanned.
Since we were little kids, wed spent our summers at the beach on Lake Washington. First it was the swings and the jungle gym. A little older, wed race to the floater in the middle of the swimming area, dive off, then dry on our towels in the sun. Older still, we hung out at the snack bar, batting our lashes at cute boys and getting them to buy us milkshakes.
I didnt get to choose my own sister. But it was happening, anyway.
In just two weeks, Brooklyn was marrying my big brother, James.
I can see the Golden Gate Bridge, Sophie Crush said from the front seat of the cab.
I was in the middle of the back seat squished between Brooklyn and Nat Remington. Thats what happened when you insisted on taking a hybrid from the airport.
Do you think well have views from our rooms? Nat asked.
I want a view of the spa, Brooklyn said. From inside the spa, I mean.
You heard the bride, I said.
I flexed my shoulders in anticipation of a deep stone massage. Id had one once before. It had been a little slice of Heaven that I was dying to repeat.
Pedicures, Sophie said.
Facials, Nat said.
I want to sit in the sauna, Brooklyn said.
I feel my pores opening up already, I said.
The sauna sounded like a great idea. So did a facial. I was the maid of honor, and I was determined to look my best.
Unlike some bridesmore selfish bridesBrooklyn had chosen gorgeous bridesmaid dresses. They were airy and knee length with strapless sweetheart necklines and fitted bodices of azure-blue chiffon that faded to pale sky at the hemline.
My auburn hair was tricky but, happily, the colors worked. Because for a single twenty-six-year-old, a wedding was a really good place to meet new guys.
I was at a disadvantage this time since half the guests would be my own relatives. Plus Id met nearly all of Brooklyns friends and family over the years. Still, she might have an undiscovered hot second cousin or two in the right age range. A woman could never discount an opportunity.
The cab pulled to a halt beside a rotating glass door and miles of windows that looked into the lobby. Stylized gold lettering spelled out The Archway Hotel and Spa on a marble pillar.
Three men in crisp steel-gray short-sleeved jackets simultaneously opened our doors.
Welcome to the Archway, one of them said to Brooklyn, his gaze lingering on her sea-breeze eyes before moving past her to me.
His smile was friendly. He was cute, but I wasnt about to get interested.
Not that I have anything against valets. He could be putting himself through grad school for all I knew. Or maybe he liked living near the beach and having flexible hours.
Brooklyn moved past him, and he held out his hand to me.
I took it.
It was strong, slightly calloused, definitely tanned. Maybe he was a surfer.
Im not a snob about professions. Im a high school math teacher, and that isnt the most prestigious job. Im open to meeting people from all walks of life.
He did have really gorgeous hazel eyes, and a strong chin, and a bright white smile.
I came to my feet and he let go of my hand, taking a step back.
Well take care of the bags, he said, his gaze holding mine a little longer than normal.
It took me a second to realize he was waiting for a tip.
I almost laughed at myself. He wasnt flirting with meat least not with any romantic intent. He did this with everyone who arrived at the hotel. It was probably how he paid for his surfboard.
I rustled through my purse for a five and handed it over.
It was a splurging kind of a weekend, I reminded myself. You only got the perfect sister-in-law once in your life.
Two bellhops wheeled our luggage into the lobby and we followed.
We could go see some male exotic dancers, Nat said.
Brooklyn winced. Pass.
I smiled. I knew Nat was joking. If Sophie had suggested it, I might have taken her seriously.
Dont be too hasty, Sophie said. After all, what do you think James is doing with the guys right now?
You think James is watching male exotic dancers? Brooklyn asked as we made our way past the fountain to the check-in desk.
Female, Sophie said.
There was no lineup. In fact, there were three attendants available. Nice.
Brooklyn swung her tote bag onto her shoulder. The guys are watching a doubleheader.
Afterward, Sophie said.
I couldnt imagine James going to a strip show. He was absolutely not the type.
But Brooklyn got a funny expression on her face, like she thought maybe it was a possibility, even though the idea was ridiculous.
Are you checking in today? the woman behind the counter asked us in a chipper voice that said she was delighted to be here to help us.
Were the Christie party, Nat answered, deftly pulling a copy of the reservation from her bag.
Hanging back, I spoke to Brooklyn in an undertone. Youre not worried about James, are you?
Brooklyn frowned and gave a noncommittal shrug. Then she moved toward the counter, digging into her bag. Do you need my credit card?
I just need one for check-in, the woman said. When you check out, you can split the charges if you like.
I repositioned myself so that I was beside Brooklyn.
Hes not going to see a stripper, I whispered, wondering how she could possibly be worried about Jamess behavior.
James, with a masters degree in economics, whod landed a job at one of the most conservative consulting firms in Seattle, who only spoke in complete sentences and who guarded his social media accounts as if he had the nuclear launch codes, would not be hanging out at a strip club.
I couldnt imagine him risking someone snapping his picture in a strip clubeven if he did want to see naked women. Which he did not, because there wasnt a woman in the country more beautiful than Brooklyn.
Brooklyn was a fashion buyer for a chain of Seattle boutiques. But she could have been a movie star or a supermodel. There was nowhere for James to go but down in the looks department.
Whats wrong? I asked her.
She turned her head and smiled. What could possibly be wrong?
There was something in her eyes. I couldnt quite put my finger on it.
Did James do something? I asked her.
No.
Are you mad at him?
No.
Then what?
Nothing. Brooklyn smiled again. Hes perfect. James is perfect. And Im going to book a spa appointment. She reached for the brochure on the countertop.
I can help with that, the check-in woman said as she handed Nats credit card back to her.
Something with aromatherapy, Brooklyn said.
I wasnt one hundred percent convinced by Brooklyns nonchalance, but I thought about hot stones pressed slowly across my oiled back and decided anything else could wait.
Massaged and steamed and showered and dressed, I spotted Sophie sitting at the bar in the lounge. A jazz trio was playing in the corner while candles flickered on the mottled glass tables. The chairs were white leather, and a glass mosaic decorated the wall behind the bar.
I was wearing three-inch heels with my silver cocktail dress, so I was happy to rest my feet by perching next to Sophie.
What are you drinking? I asked.
Vodka martini.
The bartender arrived, another cute guy. Can I get you something?
His smile was friendly, definitely flirtatious. And he was classically handsome, probably thirty or so, with intelligent gray eyes.
I certainly had nothing against bartenders, except when you met them at their work. There they flirted with everybody. Like the valets out front, their shift was made or broken by their tips.