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“You mean you don’t find me attractive?” I managed a lazy drawl. The sun was brightening beyond the windows and I could see him more clearly. This was what Bella would do, taunt him and toy with him. And of course he found me attractive, everyone found Bella attractive, and I was wearing her mask.
He looked me up and down, a considering expression on his narrow, clever face, and I suddenly regretted my question. “Do you want me to?”
His words hung in the air, a taunt, and I could feel my face color. Bella would never blush—I expect she was constitutionally incapable of doing so. “Hardly!” My voice was haughty. A sudden thought struck me, and I said it before I could think better of it. “I remember you had a mad crush on me when you were younger. I just wasn’t sure you’d outgrown it.”
He took a step toward me. “I outgrew it long ago, Bella.”
“Then what was the real reason you kissed me?” I demanded, beyond frustrated.
His smile was slow, wicked, reaching his eyes. “You’re just going to have to figure that out, aren’t you?”
I stared at his retreating figure and I wanted to throw something at him. He just would have laughed, so instead, I slumped back down in the bed, ignoring both my headache and the weird, restless feeling that infused my body. Ian the Wretch was living up to his name, curse him. Even Bella at her grandest hadn’t been able to vanquish him, and I was small potatoes compared to her. In a battle of wills, I would never win. The best I could hope for was a draw, and I was determined to wrest that much from our contentious interactions. I’d grown a lot stronger in the last twelve years—I might not win in our battle, but neither would he.
I shouldn’t have been able to fall back asleep, given the emotions running through me, but it wasn’t even full light. I drifted off, only to be jerked away by Marcus bounding into my bedroom like an athlete about to take the field.
He was gorgeous in the full sunlight, wearing a pale pink polo shirt and white jeans that fit his massive thighs and tight ass. “Bella, my sweet! How are you feeling?” His voice was very loud, and the fading trace of my headache flared for a moment.
“I’m good,” I said in a softer voice, trying to contain his puppy-dog enthusiasm. “I just need my coffee.”
“Of course you do. And Granda wants us to have it with him, so I thought I’d hurry you along. Do get dressed, that’s a good girl, and we’ll see what the old man wants.”
I didn’t like being told to “be a good girl” and I was instinctively wary of anything Granda might want to discuss with us both. “Will Ian be there?”
“Ian? Why would you care where Ian is? You never liked him.”
The last time I kissed you. Ian’s words stuck in my head, along with the accompanying annoyance. Bella must have liked him well enough at least one time. In fact, it had driven Bella crazy that she could never charm Ian the way she charmed everyone else.
I gave him a cheerful, entirely false smile. “I don’t. I was just curious.”
Marcus shrugged. He had a swimmer’s build—massive shoulders and chest, lean hips and long, muscled legs. He was every woman’s fantasy. Why was he no longer mine?
At least that made my life easier. “I’ll need a few minutes to get ready,” I temporized. “Why don’t you go on up?”
“You’ll need an hour or more, and I don’t want to be the focus of Granda’s attention for that long. He always looks as if he’s expecting more from me.”
Bella never hurried for anyone but herself, but I was too restless to spend an hour primping. “I’ll be ready in half that time.”
“Then I’ll come back and accompany you. Always the gentleman, you know,” he said brightly.
I didn’t really need another shower but I took one anyway, washing the last of the blood from my bleached and permed pre-Raphaelite curls. It was a lucky thing I wore my own wavy hair in a long braid—Bella without her signature curls would be a lot harder to pull off.
I couldn’t get by without changing my contacts and doing a quick version of Bella’s elaborate makeup routine. My face was thinner than hers, my cheekbones higher, my mouth wider. Makeup could take care of most of that, and the simple fact that they expected me to be Bella would take care of the rest.
And yet for some reason, I was feeling less confident in my disguise. I needed to finish up and get out of here. My car was now crashed, but I expected I could talk Marcus into finding me some transportation. I needed to get away from Mariposa and the thousands of stolen memories. I needed to get away from Ian’s dark, assessing eyes. I needed to get away.
Chapter Ten
By the time Marcus reappeared, I was ready to climb the walls in my need for coffee, and all his flattering smiles didn’t do nearly as good as one hit of caffeine would. The halls at Mariposa were wide, and I knew perfectly well where I was going, but Marcus insisted on securely tucking my arm in his, and I didn’t want to get into a wrestling match. I gave in and let him drag me up to Granda’s suite, ignoring his cheerful banter.
My mood lightened when I saw my grandfather—his color was better, he was sitting up, and if the dishes in front of him weren’t empty, it was still clear he’d eaten something.
“It took you long enough,” he grumbled as a greeting, but that was typical. “Were you too canoodling in the halls?”
“Canoodling, Granda?” Marcus echoed with his hearty laugh.
“Marcus and I are simply friends, Granda,” I said firmly. “Nothing more.”
“You’re cousins.”
