Double Take by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online

Kait hurried from the bedroom, entering a huge walk-in closet the size of most people’s bedrooms, she realized that the master bedroom completely lacked her sister’s touch. It was almost as if she didn’t live there.
    Perplexed, Kait paused in the walk-in, which was evenly divided, with Trev’s clothes hanging and folded up on shelves on one side, Lana’s on the other. Kait stared at a row of exquisite suits, then at piles of jeans and sweaters. She glanced down at several pairs of designer loafers side by side with high show boots and running sneakers. She could not help herself.
    She walked over. She touched the top sweater, a soft blue, and found that it was cashmere. She touched a pile of cotton tees that were as high a quality and as finely woven as the sweaters. She saw a pile of running clothes—shorts, tights, pullovers. She glanced at the gleaming show boots—he had two pairs. His sneakers were well worn and muddy.
    She gave his wardrobe one last glance, disturbed, and she quickly stripped off her trousers and twin set, and took off the red lipstick with a Kleenex.
    Clad only in her own underwear—a pale pink cotton bra and pale pink cotton bikinis, she went to Lana’s side of the closet, hoping to find something comfortable—and comforting—to put on. Lana had insisted in her letter that Kait only use Lana’s clothes, makeup, and jewelry, which made sense. Of course, as no one was ever going to see her in her skivvies, Kait had used her own underwear. Her sister had actually left a tiny, lacy scrap of La Perla thong and a matching bra in the bag she had given her, but Kait drew the line at sharing underwear, and at the discomfort she felt certain the garments would provoke.
    Kait rifled through designer wool suits; black, tan, and gray trousers; leather pants; Ralph Lauren blazers; expensive sweaters; and silk blouses. There was simply nothing to her liking. She eyed Lana’s gym clothes—tights and a loose woven top would certainly do, except Lana would never be caught dead out of a gym clad like that and Kait knew it. There was not a single pair of jeans to be found. Lana had always been extremely well dressed, ever since they were children. Clearly, that had not changed.
    Suddenly, Kait couldn’t cope. Suddenly, the failure to find sweats and a tee brought tears to her eyes. Two days loomed ahead as if it were an eternity.
    “Let’s get this over with,” Trev Coleman said.
    Kait jumped three feet high and faced Lana’s husband, clad only in her panties and bra. She felt her cheeks flame, and somehow did not run for cover. As she stood there, mostly naked, facing him, her heart going wild, she reminded herself that he thought they were married. But for a man bent on divorce, he was not very oblivious. In fact, damn him, he was staring.
    “What are you doing?” he demanded, unsmiling.
    Then she gave up. They were not married, she was not his wife, and while she thought she had decent thighs, he had just seen every inch of them. And his green eyes remained mesmerized by her cotton panties. “Would you mind? I’m getting dressed,” she said through her teeth. And she heard them chatter.
    His gaze jerked up, to her face, her mouth, her eyes. His color seemed to rise. “What happened to your underwear?” he said as tightly. His eyes jerked downward again.
    She felt like throwing something at him. Instead, she grabbed a pair of pants off a hanger and hopped into them. “Nothing,” she snapped. Damn it! She should have worn her sister’s sexy designer underwear.
    He now studied her carefully, from head to toe. Kait didn’t like the way he was looking at her, as if he was calculating the cotton underwear and her new haircut. He finally said, his tone terribly neutral, “Are you on a diet or something?”
    “I had the flu in New York. I didn’t eat for a few days. I’m still feeling weak.”
    He finally lifted his gaze, and she saw that he was not unaffected by her; in fact, she saw a