CHAPTER ONE
JESSE
The flustered-looking brunette whose briefcase had just popped open and dumped papers at her feet was the reason I was still in jeans. I blamed her for the fact that I was wearing work boots for the second day in a row. When I’d offered to pretend to be my twin brother, Scott, I’d imagined investing only a few hours into the charade.
I should’ve already been back in my office in Brookline, fielding calls from news stations regarding the most recent and most impressive contract Rehoboth Heating and Cooling had ever landed. When my older brother, Thane, and I had taken over our family’s company, we’d decided to reach beyond the traditional local and government contracts my father had courted. Instead of investing in machinery to increase production, we’d used our trust funds to aggressively recruit the top minds in related fields. It was a gamble that was finally paying off.
A privately owned company, Bellerwood, had just contracted us to design and install our alternative to traditional thermal control systems in the multibillion-dollar space station they were racing to get into orbit. The deal would add a string of zeros to my family’s net worth.
Yet there I was, standing on a porch with peeling paint, wondering why the hell I’d agreed to stay on another day. When Crystal Holmes, a rep from Steadman Oil, rescheduled the meeting she’d arranged with Scott, I’d seen it for what it was—a classic power play. No different than all the times I’d made business associates wait while I finished a phone call. If things were ratcheting up, I couldn’t let Scott handle it on his own.
I had expected Ms. Holmes to be a seasoned negotiator. Instead she was beautiful and teetering on high heels as if they were new to her. Her skirt hiked up deliciously each time she bent in an attempt to gather what the wind had other plans for. I was attracted—any man would have been—but it wasn’t something I’d act upon. Wide eyed and innocent was far from my type.
Embracing my role, I hooked a thumb in a front pocket of my jeans and leaned a hip against the railing of my brother’s farmhouse porch. I could have helped her, but the first rule of engagement was to never give up a position of advantage. In life, regardless of one’s situation, the strongest and the most prepared were the ones who thrived. Scott didn’t see that yet, but he’d learn.
Saving his farm was lesson one. Steadman Oil had already offered more for the land than it was worth. They’d already sent lawyers to town hall to dig up anything they could use against Scott. Ms. Holmes was a distraction, a dirty little trick even I was above resorting to. It was surprising that Scott’s naive belief that things worked out for people who tried their best and played by the rules hadn’t already cost him everything.
After resecuring her papers in her briefcase, the woman ran a hand over the curls that were coming free from the loose bun at the nape of her neck. She had a rocking body: ample breasts that strained to pop open the top of her shirt and legs that went on forever. Scott would have been putty in her hands. When it came to being identical, our similarities were only skin deep. I was far harder to sway.
Normally nothing would have lured me from the office, but Thane understood that I couldn’t sit back and watch Steadman Oil outmaneuver Scott. Call it pride. Rehoboths didn’t lose, and if someone came for one of us, we faced them down together. Loyalty was the foundation of our family—for the men at least. My mother hadn’t held to that philosophy. She’d had no issue with walking away.
Scott wasn’t a Rehoboth. Separated at birth, we’d been adopted by different couples—neither of whom had known that there were two of us until recently. I still wouldn’t have known of Scott’s existence had an old college friend not sent me an online article of Scott holding up a fucking duck with a prosthetic leg he’d designed for it. My friend Isaac had sent me the article as a joke—the ultimate doppelgänger doing something so far removed from what I would do that it was hilarious. To Isaac.
Me? I was mildly amused at first. It was interesting to see someone with so many shared features. That was it.
Until I couldn’t stop going back to that photo of Scott. He looked too much like me for it to be a coincidence. An uncomfortable conversation with my father led to a DNA test with Scott, and voilà . . . I had another brother. A twin. One who was about to lose his farm.
“Scott Millville?” Ms. Holmes asked in a breathless voice.
“That’s me,” I lied.
She squared her shoulders. “My name is Crystal Holmes. We have an appointment.”
“Had,” I said. “Yesterday. I was here. You were . . . ?”
She walked toward me. “Unavoidably detained. I did text you asking if it would be okay if I came today.”
“I don’t recall responding that it would be.” I looked her over again—so humble, so tentative. I didn’t believe it for a second. Just how stupid did they think my twin was?
She held my gaze and smiled. “And yet here I am.”
I pushed off the railing and slowly made my way down the steps. Although she was doing her best to appear nonthreatening, we both knew she wasn’t. How far would she take the game? Stopping less than a foot from her, I looked her up and down slowly, then nodded toward her and her briefcase. “You have nothing I’m interested in.”
The flush of red that spread up her neck was a tell that my comment had stung. Her smile wavered but held. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” She looked away and bit her bottom lip. God, she had the act down. What would her next play be? When she raised her eyes to mine again, they were dark and troubled. “Please. It’s a new offer, a better one. You should at least hear it before turning it down.”
“I could not have been clearer about not wanting to sell.”
Her shaky smile thinned her lips. “Yes, but Steadman Oil is now prepared to revert the land as well as your subsoil gas and oil rights back to you after a term.”
Interesting and unusual. “And the farm?”
“The house could remain, but the fields would be unusable for an agreed-upon amount of time.”
“So I could have it all back after you destroy the land.”
“Site cleanup is part of every project Steadman Oil does. It’s a very generous offer, Mr. Millville. Much more than you could sell the property for. And the farm gets to stay in your family.”
“What makes you think it won’t regardless?” She switched her briefcase from one hand to another, not yet smooth enough to conceal when a question was difficult for her. Was it deliberate, or was she truly so inept? It was mildly entertaining to test her act. I bent closer and lowered my voice. “Or that I want a family?”
“I didn’t mean to . . .” Her mouth opened and closed a few times like she was a fish out of water. “I’m sure the farm is important to your parents.”
“My parents are traveling the country in an RV and enjoying their retirement. That’s why it’s my name on the deed.” I had no idea how Scott’s parents felt about the farm, but that was irrelevant to the outcome. My goal was simply to keep Ms. Holmes off balance long enough for her to make a mistake and reveal something I could use.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, which is the reason I’m here to speak with you.”