Page 13 of Double Take

“Have you had breakfast? We could go to the café across the street.” His mouth quirked into a grin. “Your friend can keep an eye on me.”

Her stomach fluttered in an unexpected, unwelcome way.

His smile seemed self-deprecating, genuine. His voice held a deeper, warmer intonation than she recalled. Part of the act? Or was he really a clone?

Gah! I’m not starting to believe him, am I?If this was a stunt, and she fell for his bullshit, she’d never forgive herself.Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

She’d moved on with her life but hadn’t gotten closure. She desired to find out what her husband had been doing during their marriage.

Faith glanced at Amity.

“I’ll watch the shop.”I’ll keep an eye on him, was what she meant.

They left the studio, crossing the street to the café.

The morning air held a chill, and overnight dew coated tables and chairs outside, so, on tacit agreement, they entered the tiny restaurant and seated themselves by the window—in view of Amity, watching from across the street.

“She takes her role as protector seriously,” John commented.

“Yes, she’s a great friend.”

A waitress took their order for coffee and two banana nut muffins. A niggle of significance flashed, but it vanished into the mental ether before she could latch onto it. “So,” she said.

“I shocked you.”

“To say the least.”

“Thank you for agreeing to talk with me.”

“You’re going to do most of the talking,” she said.

“You have questions.” He nodded.

The waitress set two coffees on the table. Faith added a spoonful of sugar and a dash of cream to hers. John did the same. Did he model her behavior to try to build a rapport and convince her he wasn’t Mark? Her husband drank his coffee black.

She glanced across the street. Amity was still glued to the window. Faith sipped her coffee. “Hypothetically, let’s say you are a clone. Why did you come to see me? You don’t know me.”

“To impersonate Hammond, I had to study his habits, and that included getting to know the people in his life.”

“Having a few biographical facts about a person isn’t the same as knowing him or her,” she pointed out. “We’d never met before last night.”

He dropped his gaze and raised his cup to his lips. An electrified portent sizzled. The hair on her nape stood up. Her breath caught in her throat. “We haven’t…have we?”

“Once.”

“When?” But she knew. “The art gala.”

“Yes.”

Mark had acted differently that night—sweet, caring—his affection and warmth seeming genuine instead of performative. He’d looked at her like she was the sun, the moon, and the stars all rolled up into one. The gala had come before the cat incident, but she’d already begun having doubts about their marriage. Those doubts had melted away under his heated gaze and loving touch. She’d fallen in love with him all over again.

She would have slept with him, if he hadn’t departed on another “business trip.” When he’d returned, he’d been the same old asshole. The change had been so severe, she’d been left reeling. So, maybe it hadn’t been Mark at the gala, but John. But why would a body double have been so warm and attentive? If he’d truly wished to imitate Mark, he would have acted the opposite.

What kind of mind-fuck games was Dark Ops playing? What gave them the right to substitute another man for her husband?

She pressed her lips together.

“I’d say I’m sorry, except I’m not. I…enjoyed spending that evening with you.”

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