The problem with twins is that they look so much alike…
By day, Claire Robertson is a staff writer for a small publication in Seattle. But when the lights go down, she writes sizzling and oh-so-naughty erotica. She keeps these stories safely tucked away, hiding her secret fantasies of her hero, Dustin Murray. The man who stole her heart six years ago. And then jumped into bed with her twin sister.
Dustin never forgot Claire, or her twin sister’s lies that tricked him into sleeping with her. Nor has he forgotten that her sister’s threats have kept him silent for six years and cost him the woman he loved. Now that Claire’s returned home, Dustin isn’t about to lose her again. But it’ll be another thing to convince Claire he’s prepared to do whatever it takes to win her back.
When Claire accidentally sends the wrong story to her editor, things really heat up. With hot the new black in publishing, her editor thinks he’s struck gold and queues the story for publication. The last thing Claire needs is for everyone to learn that she’s got secrets of her own…
Character Interview: Fran Robertson
What is it like being a twin?
God awful. It couldn’t be worse seeing a double of yourself. Especially one who is so damn perfect. Back as children, living with Claire, I felt we were cast as the good sister and the evil one. No matter what I did, it came out bad. Eventually, I accepted by position and learned to enjoy not having to live up to anyone standards but my own.
Why’d you leave Mill Spring for New York? I wanted to find a life that didn’t expand like warm taffy. I like excitement and never knowing what’s around the corner. It’s bam-bam-bam in New York. Eat or be eaten.
You never came back home to visit, why? Not after what I went through. Really, no one knew what is what like in small town. The power brokers are small group of men who do what they want and their children feed off that power. I can’t talk about what those guys did…what they got away with. No one wanted to listen to my side. All I know is I did what I had to do to survive and the hell with everyone.
How could you do such a heartless thing to your sister? She’s got her head in the clouds. Claire skated through life untainted and she could afford a few tears. Claire’s been given life on a silver platter. Always has been utterly perfect. I’m not making excuses. It forced her to leave and we both were safe. I’m only sorry she’s decided to stay. I tried.
Where do you see yourself in ten years? Opening up another brokerage house perhaps in Boston or Chicago and then franchising. I’m thinking of going into the corporate world. Married to a man who can give me what I need and not step on my toes. A lover or two who satisfy me. On a couple of corporate boards, tightening my investment portfolio, and on the list of Fortune 500 women CEO. That list generally has twelve. And probably ready for nervous breakdown, but hey the ride will have been worth it. Don’t look at me like that.
Short Answers: Fran’s Favorites
TV Program: CSPAN
Accessory: Attaché case
Absolute Necessity: Personal assistant
Vacation Spot: Manhattan, the desk my office
Quote: “The world is my oyster.”
The man’s gaze fell to her legs still carelessly strewn across her desk. Her heart thundered in her ears. Warmth from his sharp exhale caressed the skin at her ankles.
She bit her lip and decided—no regrets for trying “And?” She returned his mocking raised-brow expression in an eye-for-an-eye stare down.
“I’m Thornton Maxwell…your attorney.” He turned away, but not before she caught his look of displeasure. “God. Woman, do you even know what a mess you’ve got on your hands? We need to talk. A real pressure cooker is about blow.”
Cynthia froze. This wasn’t part of her erotic fantasy. What was he talking about? Should she just come out and admit she had no idea of what was going on or get him to divulge what demanded damage control?
She pretended unconcerned boredom in an attempt to buy some time to think. “Someone’s got his panties in a real twist.”
This wasn’t the first time she’d needed legal. But if he was her new go-to man, she was tempted to screw more things up.
This was a conundrum. He was too damn good-looking. This type of man didn’t appreciate a dumbbell. Did he know how hard she worked or that sometimes contracts needed to be bent? “Explored” is what she liked to call it. Wasn’t that why McGavock Publishing hired a boatload of first-year attorneys anyway? Shoot, he was probably upset because his weekend golf game was about to be rained out.
He paced in front of her desk while raking fingers through his thick, dark hair. Cynthia noticed the way he flexed and moved his arms, his muscles pumping and expanding. He stopped, spun around, and marched back to her desk.
“Lewis, when you cross out clauses and write your own notes into a publishing contract, we don’t have a legal leg to stand on in court when an issue is disputed. The things you’ve included to get an author to sign without consulting legal is tying us in knots. The next time you promise a writer the moon, you better consult me first and NASA second. Not whatever pops into that pretty little head of yours. You need my help with this lawsuit, and I expect your cooperation. You might as well know now that’s going to mean during office hours as well as evenings and weekends.”
His finger was pointed directly in front of her face. She imagined sucking the tip until her sex-crazed brain finally grasped his message.
What? She was floored. Her stomach felt punched, the fist of surprise still lodged in her ribcage. Her mind reeled. It wasn’t possible. She was being threatened with a lawsuit for a couple of silly additions to a contract, and now this man expected her to drop everything. Was he joking? Slowly she inhaled.
“I’m innocent.” She stared back at him. “Sure, I’m not beyond bending the rules, but a lawsuit? No, that’s not possible; it’s impossible. You’ve got to help me.”
“We definitely need a sit-down. Not your usual brush-off and expectation for legal to jump through a hoop. This one is serious.” His gaze swept over her face and downward. The space between them crackled with static energy. He was more than steamed. But he was ready to step in and help her. A spasm of pleasure trilled in her veins. He was her knight in shining armor. She wasn’t the enemy. Not his at least. With all that pent-up fury of his, it was a shame to let it go to waste. He was handsome beyond belief…another time, over cocktails or at a party, she’d not think twice about what her body wanted. His dark eyes weren’t all anger…passion brewed there, pulling the cords to her attraction, making her skin tingle. Oh, my. He wanted to school her good. But maybe she could teach him a thing.
“Thor…Thornton, sit down.” She recouped her confidence. He was in her dominion. The door was closed. Her assistant always knocked before entering. The glass panels were mirrored. He was so near…all she had to do was reach out to him.
She met his bad-boy stare with excitement screaming in her ears.
“Please.” She was almost purring, beseeching him over the rim of her eyeglasses.
“Fine, I’m all ears.” He pulled up a chair closer to her desk. “Well?”
She studied him. If the man ever smiled, he’d be drop-dead gorgeous. She let the papers slip out of her fingers, and she pushed her glasses up on top of her head. Cynthia rubbed her ankles together, and his eyes fixed onto legs.
Ding, ding. Johnny, she had a winner.
She lifted her legs and stood, acting as if arranging her papers was vital. She felt, rather than saw, that his gaze was upon her.
“Client-attorney privilege?” She rounded the desk, trailing her fingers along the surface.
“Yes, whatever you share. Go on.”
“Where shall I begin?” She stopped and leaned back on her desk, directly in front of him. Eighteen inches of space separated them.
“Haven’t you ever longed for something to the point of breaking a few rules? Just once?”
He held his spine erect. He gripped the armrests. She noticed the fine hairs on his fingers, but no ring. She placed the toe of her shoe on the corner of his chair, her ankle only an inch away from his grasp. Her silk skirt lifted, sliding up her thighs, and his gaze shot to the revealed set of black lace Agent Provocateur garters.
She licked her lips and unbuttoned a pearl button. He flared his nostrils ever so slightly. He stared at her fingers. She undid another button. He became a statue. A rather alluring, attentive one. She continued unbuttoning the rest of buttons. She didn’t open her shirt, hoping he’d notice her breasts were unhampered by a bra. The only sound in the room was their breathing.
“Don’t stop now.”
She opened her shirt, revealing ample cleavage. Her nipples hardened at the thought of his mouth teasing her skin.
She rubbed her leg against his thumb. He touched her ankle, lightly at first, before running his fingers up the back of her calf. She pushed her hips forward, her skirt lifted further up and over her thighs.
He made a low, primal sound, melting a reserve within her.
“Do you like what you see?”
Their eyes locked and she smiled. She traced a finger along the bottom of her lip. She stuck just the tip into her mouth and sucked, playfully removing any doubt of where this was going.
“Hmm,” she whispered. “What do you want?”
He closed his eyes and moved his hand over her knee. She went beyond merely teasing him to wanting to feel him deep inside her body.
“I love the concept of falling in love. The type of romantic journey that is so intense, it’s borders on insanity.”–Susan D. Taylor
After growing up in Miami, she moved to Nashville where she taught biology and special education. No longer a public school teacher, Susan now writes about consuming passion, how attraction plays out, and characters that are either going to incinerate or meld like warm caramel.
Susan lives with her husband, two blue heelers, two cats, a gecko and a snake. An RYT 200 (Yoga Alliance) practicing in vinyasa flow when she’s not writing her next hot romance.