Page 3 of Switching Places

And Emma did. Two walls were almost solid glass, which gave her the feeling of being outdoors. The huge bathroom seemed larger than her cottage living room, and the whirlpool tub was big enough to accommodate an intimate party of eight.

As Lily helped her put her clothes away in the walk-in closet, a bit of envy touched Emma when she viewed the wardrobe hersister had acquired. Wild and bold—the styles and colors were vastly different from Emma’s usual conservative attire.

Lovingly she fingered one of the gowns.

“Help yourself to anything you want. We must be the same size. You’re not in Virginia now, live a little,” Lily offered carelessly with a quick glance at her sister’s clothes.

Emma shook her head. “I don’t think these are quite me.”

“Why not give them a try—live it up.”

“Everything about you seems different,” Emma said slowly, drawing the dress from the hanger and holding it up in front of her. “Your entire way of life is so foreign to mine. I think I envy you sometimes.”

Lily laughed. “It’s the grass-is-greener syndrome, Emma. I feel that way about you. You have a close relationship with Mom that I’ve never had. I hardly know our brothers and sister. And there is a timelessness about living in a small town, having traditions and values that go back to the founding fathers.” She shrugged sheepishly and grinned. “Sometimes I envy what you have.”

“Want to switch?” Emma asked and flashed a mischievous smile. She was surprised to learn her sister didn’t seem as satisfied with her own life as Emma had thought she’d be.

Lily shook her head. “Can’t this week, I have to go to Mexico. But you can enjoy what I have, pretend anything you want. You’re on vacation, indulge. You might even change your mind about David—the—Dentist. Hold out for a chime ringer.”

Slowly Emma wandered to stand in front of the full-length mirror that lined one wall, imagining what she’d look like wearing the dress, how she’d feel. For one daring moment she let her imagination soar. To pretend to be Lily, to wear the fancy clothes her sister wore with such insouciance, to drive the candy-apple-red Mustang convertible she’d seen in the garage, to mingle with Hollywood’s elite—it sounded wonderful. And atotal change for a quiet librarian from Charlottesville, Virginia. Dare she take her sister up on her suggestion? Even for a day or so?

The next evening Emma twirled around on the deck, smoothing her hands over the sensuous silk of the jade green jumpsuit. She felt deliciously wicked in the creation. She’d never owned anything remotely like it and probably never would. But for the next few days she could splurge to her heart’s delight in a hundred different outfits as sexy and sensuous as this.

Emma sank into one of the chairs scattered around the deck. She placed her bare feet on the lower rung of the wooden railing, scooting down in the chair slightly as she let the beauty of the early evening soak into her, soothe her. Lily had left that morning for Mexico and Emma had indulged herself by spending the rest of the day on the beach. The umbrella her sister had provided had kept her shaded for the most part, but enough reflected rays had managed to sneak through to turn her skin a light golden brown. Now, as she enjoyed the sunset, she felt peacefully alone at the edge of the world.

The homes in Malibu Beach were few and far apart. People who lived in Malibu paid for privacy and got it. The place to her right was barely visible beyond the huge boxwood hedge that separated the two properties.

“The Arunsons are on a cruise on theQueen Mary. They won’t be home until July,” Lily had casually mentioned during yesterday’s house tour. “Nice couple, older and wealthy as Midas.”

Then, waving her hand casually toward the house to the left she said, “Logan’s in Italy someplace. He sold some Italian studio a license for his software and they botched it up. He does special effects, you know.”

Emma had briefly glanced out the bedroom window at the time toward the traditional Spanish-style home next door.

Emma smiled as she recalled how her sister had so offhandedly mentioned her neighbors and their travels. If one of her Charlottesville neighbors had left for a cruise, most of the town would have known and discussed it for days.

With both neighbors gone, she had the whole expanse of beach, sea and sky to herself. In another few moments the sun would sink completely behind the horizon and twilight would cloak the coast. The balmy air stirred the wisps of hair around her cheeks. The gulls were quiet, the murmur of the surf a constant companion.

She sighed in pleasure. Tomorrow she’d be on the beach again or maybe try that sports car along the twisting roads that led to Los Angeles. Knowing she wouldn’t drive that splashy red car with the breathtaking speed her sister enjoyed, she’d still get plenty of excitement from the powerful vehicle. She wished she could drive it home. Wouldn’t the boys drool if they had a chance to ride in it? Both of her half-brothers were on the verge of learning to drive and consequently car mad. Before she left, she’d have to get a picture to show them what they’d missed.

Lily’s comment echoed in her mind. She was on vacation, make the most of it. Idly daydreaming, Emma considered doing just that. She could wear the bold and dashing clothes her sister favored, drive her car. Pretend that this was her life, a huge house on the edge of forever. She’d shed her own rather prim style, forget she lived a quiet existence in a college town wondering if life was passing her by. For the next few days she could pretend to be Lily Rambeau, femme fatale, living on the West Coast. Accountable to no one, free to do just what she wanted.

With that, Emma laughed at her nonsense and went inside to prepare her dinner. She had as much chance of living like Lily as she had of flying to Paris tomorrow.

Still, she thought wistfully, it would be fun to see how the other half lived.

Chapter Two

After a solitary meal, she drew a warm bath in the whirlpool and relaxed with a good mystery in the sybaritic splendor.

Finally giving in to fatigue, she snuggled down in Lily’s large bed. It was early, not yet ten. But she hadn’t adjusted to West Coast time yet. She could scarcely stay up beyond nine, and awoke with the birds.

So much for life in the fast lane.

Logan Beckett dropped the flight bags inside his front door and ran his hand behind his neck, trying to ease some of the stress and fatigue that gripped him. He should have stayed over in New York. Trips from Europe straight to the West Coast were killers. He’d passed dead tired a few hours ago, yet if he went to bed now as the sun rose, he’d wake up as it set and have to adjust all over again tomorrow. Might as well bite the bullet today. If he could make it until late afternoon, he’d sleep until morning and quickly readjust to California time.

His house felt hot and stuffy. Hadn’t the cleaning service followed his instructions about airing it out? He’d faxed them day before yesterday—Italian time—that he’d be home today.

Hungry and roaming the kitchen for something to eat, he finally slammed a cupboard door shut. The service he’d hired sure hadn’t lived up to its reputation. There was nothing to eat in the house. Not even instant coffee to give him a much needed caffeine fix. Blast it all. He didn’t want to drive to the nearest coffee shop.

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