She beams, and my chest tightens noticeably. She’s so goddamn sexy, I can hardly stand myself around her. I just wish I could understand what flipped the switch in my body so hard from her sister to her.
She seems like she’s Belle, but I’m no expert in telling twins apart.
Still, feelings of self-doubt niggle, and I can’t help but make one final apology.
“I really am sorry that I mistook you for your sister. I…I don’t know what it was that made me feel so certain you were her.” I shrug. “You both have this freckle,” I explain, reaching out and touching her neck gently, right above her collarbone. “I noticed it on Belle the other night, but I didn’t realize you had the same one.”
Newly attuned to her neck, I find it impossible not to notice that her pulse is thrumming at double a normal speed.
She’s nervous or anxious or excited, and her eyes hold a secret I can’t even begin to discern.
I only wish I had the power to read a woman’s mind.
We pull to a stop in front of the completely nondescript entrance to one of the most famous speakeasies in New York, and I pass the cabbie some money and then turn for the handle of the door.
But just as I’m about to pull it, her hand comes down on my forearm.
“What is it?” I ask softly. I have no idea what she’s got to say, but for some reason, I can’t wait to find out.
Sophie
My heart pounds, and the heat of his arm bleeds into the palm of my hand.
I cannot fucking believe he noticed such a subtle difference between Belle and me, and beyond that, remembers it weeks later.
None of the men I’ve ever dated has been able to tell us apart, and this practical stranger knows me for me, down to the fucking freckle on my neck.
I have to tell him.
“What is it?” he asks again when my terror robs me of the ability of speech.
I shake my head to clear it, squeeze his arm, and then pull my hand back like it’s been burned when I feel a jolt of something between us.
I mean, what the hell is it with this guy that turns my body into a live wire?
“I…well, I guess I have a bit of a confession to make. I am Sophie, obviously, and Belle did get married, but at the bachelorette party at Club Craze…I was Belle. I mean, I was pretending to be.” I shrug as his eyes widen. “Yeah, I’m sorry. But she freaked out when we got in there about being the center of attention all night and, well, you dancing for her, so she forced me to pretend to be her.” I wince. “So, yeah. That’s probably why you thought I was Belle…because that night…” I shrug again. “I was.”
“Well, shit.”
I nod and wince again. “I’m sorry. But the whole freckle thing?” I wave a hand in the general vicinity of my throat. “That was pretty impressive. Sometimes my own dad has trouble telling us apart, so really, props to you there.”
He smiles then, shaking his head quickly before turning back to his door and climbing out of the cab. My shoulders fall with defeat as I picture him walking up the block and disappearing around the corner.
I wouldn’t blame the guy. I made him think he was crazy, and then shamed him for being an exotic dancer, and then practically obligated him to take me on a date—
“Oh!” I squeal as my door unexpectedly opens beside me, a wave of cold air rushing in from the busy sidewalk.
Jude leans down into the open door and smiles at me. “Are you coming?”
“I…” I pause, looking him in the eyes. “You’re not mad?”
He chuckles. “Are you kidding? I’m fucking thrilled. I’m not crazy, for one. And for two, now I can scrub the idea that I got a little too flirtatious with a soon-to-be-married woman from my conscience. I’m ecstatic. My family will be relieved. My sister, especially, will be overjoyed with the news.”
I stumble to make sense of everything he’s saying, and my heart kicks up in my chest. “You told your family about me?”
He shrugs. “It’s a little weird, but I assure you it wasn’t in any kind of detail. Very informal conversation, really.”
“You have a sister?” I ask, to which he laughs uproariously. “What?”
“I really love that you’re curious, babe. And I’ll be happy to answer your questions. But, uh, do you think maybe you want to let this nice guy pick up another fare while we go inside the bar?”
Whoops. Way to go, Soph.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment, but Jude doesn’t say anything else. Rather, he reaches down with his hand to take my own, helps me from the taxi, and walks me inside.