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to talk to you.”

It was his twin, it had to be. The only damned bastard that had ever crept so easily past Cody’s radar. Megan shouldn’t be here, dammit.

A noise came from up above, and when a book landed splat! three inches to her right, Megan jumped in alarm.

Cody curled an arm around her waist, bending over so that only she could make out his whisper. “You’re all right, you’re with me.”

She nodded fast enough to get dizzy. “What does he want?” she squeaked.

“I don’t know, but I sure as hell would like to find out. Let’s talk to him for a bit, hmm?” He raised his head to scan the room, sure that Ivan was somewhere up in the rafters. “Ivan, if it’s you, come out here and talk to us.”

A voice broke through the space as if spoken through a microphone. “Last time you talked to me you tossed my ass in jail, brother.”

Cody almost stumbled back when his brother’s baritone struck him. Holy fuck, genetics were amazing. Cody could’ve been doing the talking, their voices were identical. And then it barreled into him: and he knew exactly how this bastard would have managed to escape prison.

Get his hands on a badge and a suit and—whoa, a crimson tie—and he’d look just like Cody.

Heart pounding at the possibility of Ivan being smarter than he remembered, Cody searched for him up in the wood beams and the second level library, but failed to find him. He’d be climbing up there by now, he’d already have the bastard by the throat, if not for the scared little kitten currently holding on to his arm.

“I’m on vacation this week,” he told his brother, as easily as though he were speaking to Zach in an attempt to inspire his confidence. “So what do you say we lunch together and talk? Noon? Meet me at Marcel’s Bistro in the Western Plaza.” He needed answers, and more than that, he needed that bastard back where he belonged. Serving a life term.

The silence gave him hope, so he yanked out his business card, set it over the tome on the floor—Moby-Dick—and guided Megan out of there, calling behind his shoulder, “I’ll see you there.”

Ivan wouldn’t follow.

Not yet.

The bastard wanted something, and Cody was pretty sure that she was currently walking in his arms.

*   *   *

  Megan turned out to be quite the stubborn little package.

She didn’t want to sleep at her house, and she refused to stay at the Rivers place if Cody wasn’t, and after Ivan had picked his locks, Cody couldn’t very well take her to his home, either. Plus, considering the fact that he only had one bed and the thought of Megan Banks’s juicy derriere sleeping in it drove Cody’s libido out of whack, his place was definitely out of the picture.

So he ended up setting them up for the night at the Candelabra, a small, boutique hotel that was close enough to the Western Plaza shopping center to make his meeting with Ivan on time tomorrow.

Since keeping things businesslike was the way to go, he got two connecting rooms with king-size beds, shared an early dinner downstairs with her, and once they went upstairs, threw himself into his research.

At least, that was his plan.

Megan seemed to have another idea.

While Cody surveyed all the paperwork he’d brought, she padded out from her room and curled up next to him on the couch, cuddling against his chest.

Within minutes she fell asleep, the soft sounds of her breathing audible in the silence, while Cody did his damnedest to concentrate and review everything he’d written about his brother on his first capture. Where he’d caught him last. Where he’d been seen before.

“No!” Megan suddenly murmured in her sleep.

She tossed her head to the side, her hair falling in a waterfall of golden tresses across her cheek. Damn, it had been a mistake to go back to his parents’ place. Abandoned, falling apart, and the stench of death still lingering. But it was a place that would always be a part of him, a reminder of his origins, his failure. Every time he visited, he felt angry, determined, and many times, enlightened.

But what in the hell had Ivan been doing there?

Could he be hiding there now? No, he must have left.

Another moan filtered through his thoughts, soft and deep. It struck him that she sounded like a woman being made love to. His dick jumped at the thought.

Stiff as a flagpole almost instantly, Cody tried pushing her off his lap, but Meg whimpered again, and he felt a pang of sympathy.

Okay, he could do this. Comfort her. She’d wanted a hug before, maybe she just wanted that now.

He ran an awkward hand down her hair, attempting to soothe her. Not to touch her hair or any of that stuff; he’d always tried to touch her as little as possible. But tonight she was whimpering and he wasn’t deaf—he heard her moans. He ran his hand down her hair again—silky delicious hair, not that he was really noticing. “Shh. Relax. Go to sleep.”

She whimpered again, and Cody shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the sound. Damn it was hard. He pitched himself to the darkest day of his life, the only thing that could bring him out of any sensual haze.

It had been awful, that day. He’d been sharing looks with her for weeks. Heated looks. And he’d been standing closer only to find out that she didn’t move away. Cody was certain, certain, that she liked him.

“She wants me,” Ivan had taunted that evening. “It’s me she wants, not you.”

“Shut up,” Cody had said. “You’re just jealous she’s walking with me tomorrow and not you.”

“I’m not jealous. You can’t even get her to kiss you.”

“Of course I can, you

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