“How could he possibly know when I only just found out?”
“How did he know that Wes Jackson had a kid with Isabelle Grayson? How did he know about Cecilia Morgan’s background? He’s obviously got some serious hacking and investigative skills.”
“True,” Nick said on a sigh. Local businessman and manufacturer Wesley Jackson was a friend of Malcolm’s and Nick had met him a few times. Wes and Isabelle were decent people who hadn’t deserved what Maverick had put them through.
“Also, all Maverick’s targets seem to be in the TCC, and since you and I are both members, we can’t discount the risk.”
“Hell.” Malcolm had a point. And the new proposals he’d been working on for the supply of body armor were all for security agencies. Given the nature of their business, handing Maverick ammunition to use on them in the form of a scandal like this would make them look like amateurs.
He blew out a breath. “Our clients need to know that any information they give us about their organizations is secure and not susceptible to a hacker.”
“Yeah,” Malcolm said, sounding weary. “Now is the time to have everything aboveboard. No secrets that could make us vulnerable.”
“I’m on it.” Nick grabbed his Kevlar riding jacket and slid his arms in, one at a time, switching the cell to his other hand as he went. “I’m going to need her home address.”
“It’s in Pine Valley. I’ll text it to you.”
“Thanks. And Malcolm?” he said, glancing up at the ceiling.
“Yeah?”
Nick drew in a long breath and held it for a moment before replying. “I will handle this. I’ll make everything right.” There was no other option. He’d make things right for Ellie, for Harper, for Harper’s baby, for Tate Armor—for everyone.
“Good luck.”
Nick disconnected the call, grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out the door. Hell would freeze over before he’d ever let down someone he was responsible for again.
But by the time he’d reached Harper’s place—a “country cottage” that was far too impressive to deserve such a description—he was having doubts. How was he even going to convince her that he, not Malcolm, was the father of her baby?
Hi. You might be interested to learn that Malcolm has an identical twin brother.
Nope.
Hey, Harper. Remember that night you thought you were with Malcolm and conceived his baby? Well, it was me. Surprise!
Not even close.
Harper, I have something to say and you might want to sit down. My name is Nick, and I was impersonating my twin brother when we met. I should have told you before things got out of hand, and I apologize.
He’d need to find much better words in the next thirty seconds or risk having the door slammed in his face.
He knocked on her front door, still having no idea how he could possibly explain everything. Then the door swung inward and she was there and he had no air left to form words anyway. Her almond-shaped brown eyes widened at the sight of him, and he knew he had to say something. Anything. But her haunting beauty overwhelmed him. He’d barely been able to stop thinking about her since that night, and now here she was in real life. Filling his vision. Smelling like heaven.
“Malcolm?” she said, her voice breathy, and instead of explaining, he found himself mute, reaching out to feel the silky-soft skin of her cheek. His palm cupped the side of her jaw, his fingers feathering over her cheekbone, and he was lost.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she took a small step back, out of his touch, but her gaze didn’t falter. He waited a beat, waited in agony, waited until she swayed back toward him, and then he reached for her again. Her lips parted as she tilted her head into his palm. The world around them faded, and he took an infinitesimal step closer, being drawn by the magnetic force that had been there since he’d first laid eyes on her three months ago.
He was supposed to say something, tell her something, but there were no words in his mind, only Harper and the way her eyes had darkened as she looked at him. Breathing ragged, he lowered his head and speared his fingers through her long, glossy hair. This was wrong, so wrong, yet the rightness of it overwhelmed him, crushing all other thoughts.
She lifted herself on tiptoes and met him halfway, her mouth finding his, her lips soft, welcoming, wanting, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and gripping tight. With a groan of surrender, he slid his tongue along hers and hauled her flush against him.
This.
This was what had driven him crazy the night they’d met. Th
is was what had kept her in his waking dreams since. This was what was making him dizzy now.
Of course, a little voice at the back of his mind whispered, this was also what had led him into trouble in the first place.