Her Twin Surprise (Forsaken Sons Book 2) Read online

  Her Twin Surprise

  By Elizabeth Lennox

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  Copyright 2021

  ISBN13: 9781950451340

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited, unless you have the direct consent of the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Excerpt to “After Hours Desire”

  Chapter 1

  “It’s going to fall over.”

  The deep voice behind her made Stevie’s hand jerk and, of course, the entire toothpick tower scattered across the bar’s countertop.

  Stevie looked up to watch the incredibly tall, deliciously muscular man walking towards her. The man she’d been waiting all night to see.

  “You’re late,” she grumbled, trying to suppress her excitement as she swept the toothpicks up and tossed them into the bin.

  “Miss me?” he teased as he perched on the stool and swiveled towards her.

  Stevie’s heart pounded frantically. “Not even a little.” She added a casual shrug, hoping to convince him.

  His deep, rumbling laughter told her that she hadn’t succeeded. “Liar,” he replied softly.

  Her eyes moved over those broad shoulders and, even when he was sitting, she still had to tilt her head back. The man was scrumptiously tall. But it was his features that continued to capture her attention. Those silver eyes of his were mesmerizing. And when he smiled, there was a small dimple on his left cheek that should soften his harsh features. But it didn’t. In fact, it only made him look tougher somehow. Perhaps because the rest of his face was so angular, with the strong, chiseled jawline and his dark hair, tanned skin…and those entrancing silver eyes. They were such a startling contrast to the rest of him.

  “How are you tonight, Janus?” she asked, pouring him a drink. She liked saying his name. Liked being with him. He laughed and teased her and he was so incredibly handsome that…!

  “You’re hurt!” she gasped, sliding the bottle of one hundred year old whiskey back on the polished wooden shelf. “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing!” Janus replied, waving her concern away. When she frowned skeptically at him, he smiled. “I Promise. Just…”

  “And your nose!” Stevie hissed, her gaze narrowing as she noticed the bruise forming under the skin. “What happened to your nose?”

  He chuckled. “Oh, well,” he shrugged a bit self-consciously. “I didn’t duck in time.”

  Stevie immediately came out from behind the bar. It wasn’t as if there were any other customers at her bar. Not at this time of the evening. She’d had a rush of customers earlier in the night, but this piano bar wasn’t of the rockin’ hot spot of Seattle, Washington. The residents of this quirky, tech town preferred the oddball, hipster bars in the downtown area. Or the more lively bars by the space needle or the stadiums.

  No, this quiet, almost antique piano bar catered more to the senior citizens of the surrounding neighborhoods and most of her business came in earlier in the evening.

  “Duck?” she repeated quizzically, as she cupped his face in her hands to examine his injuries.

  At the first touch though, all thoughts of his wounds vanished from her thoughts as the intense, shockingly powerful awareness of him poured over her.

  Janus Meyers was pretty much always on her mind. It was just more powerful when he was here. And as she realized that she was touching his face, touching the man, Stevie’s heart pounded so hard that she wasn’t sure that her rib cage could hold it. She was touching Janus. Actually touching him! In her dreams and fantasies, she’d touched him all over.

  She slid her thumb over his cheek, absently noting the roughness of his skin. His hands held her waist. Stevie wondered if there would be singe marks on her starched, white shirt when he took his hands away. Probably. The heat on her skin burned and her cheap, white shirt wasn’t adequate protection against this man’s touch.

  “What happened?” she whispered softly.

  His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. “I got tackled,” he said, his voice rough and, impossibly, sounded even deeper than moments before.

  Tackled? That didn’t make any sense. “Why?”

  He laughed slightly, shaking his head. “Sometimes, things can get a bit rough at work.”

  She sighed, sensing that he was teasing her again. Work colleagues simply didn’t tackle each other! “Janus, this looks bad. Have you seen a doctor?”

  He groaned and she could feel the delectable vibration, starting in her fingertips and ending in her toes.

  “Too many.”

  Stevie frowned, but knew from their previous conversations that he often spoke vaguely, sometimes to the point of riddles. She wanted to know him, but what was he hiding from her? He was too big and tall to be a spy, although the thought had occurred to her on several occasions. But she’d rejected that idea. He was too noticeable, she thought. Powerful and urbane, but with a rough edge to him that made him dangerous. In the novels she’d read over the years, spies needed to blend in more. They needed to become invisible when searching for information.

  There was no way that Janus Meyers could be invisible. He was well over six feet tall and with so many muscles, he had to wear shirts that were tailored just for him.

  But more than just his physical appearance, there was something about Janus that drew the eye. She’d seen it on more than one occasion when he’d come here for a drink late in the evening. He might want to appear invisible, but it simply wasn’t possible.

  “What’s too many?” she asked. “You’ve been coming here for weeks, Janus. And every night, you drop these small, mysterious comments that just don’t make sense.”

  He smiled and Stevie felt a jolt at the appearance of that secret dimple.

  “I don’t mean to be mysterious,” he replied, his voice sexy and husky. He pulled her closer so that she was standing between his long, powerful legs. “But I really like it when you touch me.”

  Stevie wanted to laugh. And she knew that her manager would be appalled if he came back into the bar to see her touching one of the customers so intimately. But Stevie couldn’t seem to pull away. In fact, was he pulling her closer? Impossible! She didn’t lean against men! That was…completely inappropriate.

  Good grief, the sensation of his hard chest against her breasts…

  “You’re so soft,” he muttered.

  “You’re not,” she whispered back.

  He chuckled, those huge hands of his sliding lower, holding her in place against his strong body.

  “I shouldn’t be touching you.” Not here, while she was w
orking! And yet, she didn’t pull away.

  His smile widened. “I’ve been wondering what you would feel like for weeks. So, I think you should stay right here.”

  Oh goodness! The things he said! They made her mind whirl. Unconsciously, Stevie licked her lips. His gaze moved to her mouth. Her eyes moved to his. The tension increased. Awareness throbbed between them. The piano played softly in the background.

  “Stevie, would you mind…?”

  Stevie jerked out of Janus’ arms as one of her customers came to the bar from the restaurant.

  “I’m sorry,” Jeanine Bryant chuckled. The seventy year old woman’s eyes sparkled as she looked between Stevie and the man sitting at the bar. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, dear.”

  Stevie blinked and scooted back behind the polished, wooden counter. “You didn’t interrupt anything, Ms. Bryant,” she replied, taking in a deep breath to clear the sensual haze. “What can I get you?”

  The elderly woman smiled, pulling her crocheted shawl higher onto her shoulders. “I just wanted another glass of that lovely white wine you served us earlier, dear.”

  Stevie nodded, already reaching into the small fridge for the bottle of wine. “Of course. I’ll bring it to your table.”

  The elderly woman beamed. “Oh, thank you!” She turned her smile on Janus. “I sincerely apologize young man,” she said, laying a hand on Janus’ upper arm. Then her eyes narrowed. “You look vaguely familiar. Do I know you?”

  Stevie smothered a smile. This seemed to happen a lot. Janus must have that look about him because many of the customers had asked that question over the past few weeks.

  Immediately, Janus turned on the charm. Taking Jeanine’s hand in his, he lifted it to his lips, gently kissing her bony knuckles. “Oh, if I’d ever met a lovely lady like yourself, I don’t think I would have let you out of my sight!”

  Jeanine laughed, playfully swatting him. “Oh, goodness! You’re good, young man!” she replied back. “Stevie, I’ll take the wine with me. You stay here and continue enjoying this handsome man!”

  And then she was gone, glass of wine in hand as she made her way back to her table.

  They watched her leave before Janus turned to Stevie. “Nice lady.”

  Stevie stayed behind the bar, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Yeah, she’s one of my regulars. She and her husband come in every Friday night. They have a glass of wine here at the bar, then move into the restaurant for dinner. She orders the salmon. He gets the steak. They generally leave by nine o’clock.” Stevie glanced down at her watch. “Since its nine-thirty, they must be celebrating something special.”

  His dark eyebrows lifted with her explanation. “Do you know the names of all of your customers?”

  Stevie laughed and grabbed the whiskey, pouring it into a crystal glass and setting it down in front of him, knowing that he preferred the good stuff. “I know the regulars.”

  He took a sip of his whiskey. “Their names as well as their preferred drinks, right?’

  Stevie shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Maybe it was the look of admiration in those silver eyes. “Well, it isn’t hard. It’s not like I have a huge crowd of customers every night. And this isn’t really a place that the tourists would easily discover. So, the ones that show up every weekend are easy to remember.”

  “That’s good customer service,” he said. “I bought another restaurant the other day.”

  Stevie’s mouth fell open. “That’s the second place you’ve bought in the few weeks that I’ve known you, Janus.”

  He shrugged one of those amazing shoulders. “This one was a mess,” he explained. “Awful customer service and the food was barely edible. I love taking over a place and turning it around,” he continued, smiling. “The worse that the food and service are, the bigger the challenge.”

  “What’s the name of your latest acquisition? What’s it like?” she asked, bracing her arms wide on the bar top.

  “It’s a place called Jimmy Joe’s over on Ninth Street.”

  Stevie knew the place. She’d heard that several people had gotten sick after eating there. “By the stadium?” she asked, noticing a pattern. “Isn’t your other bar over by the stadium as well?”

  He nodded. “It’s all about location. The restaurants are also located close to several businesses. So, they get a good deal of traffic during the week. Plus they’re convenient to the stadium, so they get slammed after any kind of game or concert.”

  “I’m not denying it makes good business sense,” she replied, smiling. “But I guess you have ‘a type’. Or maybe you just like the huge crowds?”

  Janus grunted, looking down at his drink for a moment. “I’m not a fan of crowds. Which is why I come here.” He lifted his glass of scotch in salute. “What were you doing with the toothpicks when I came in, anyway?”

  She glanced over at the garbage. “Oh, I was thinking of a new game for my kids,” she said. “A way to teach them to count.”

  His head tilted slightly. “Kindergartners don’t know how to count?”

  She smiled, feeling special that he remembered that she was a kindergarten teacher during the day. Stevie only tended bar on the weekends for extra money. Teachers didn’t earn much and living in Seattle wasn’t cheap. Most teachers needed to supplement their salaries with a second, sometimes even a third job.

  “They are starting to understand counting and math concepts. Some of them know how to count, but others haven’t started yet.”

  “And the toothpicks?”

  She grinned. “I have a bunch of straws in my classroom. I was thinking one student could make a tower while another student does jumping jacks until the tower gets too tall and tumbles.”

  He laughed. “That way two kids are counting. One of them is active and the other…”

  “Is working on their fine motor skills.” Her smile turned shy as she basked in his obvious approval. “Well, it’s an idea, anyway. I’ll work on the details tomorrow.”

  His glass froze halfway to his lips. “Isn’t tomorrow Saturday?”

  She shrugged. “Yes. Why?”

  “Don’t you take any time off?”

  Stevie chuckled. “The more experienced teachers have their lesson plans for the year all worked out and only need to tweak them slightly, maybe adding new information or adjusting the focus. But I’m a new teacher. I’m only in my third year of teaching. So, I have my lesson plans worked out, but there are details that I need to add still.”

  He nodded and took a sip. “Is teaching hard work?”

  Stevie nodded emphatically. “Yes. But it’s amazingly rewarding. Especially at this age. The kids are small and haven’t learned to hate school yet. Plus, we get to do fun stuff mixed into the learning and that makes a huge difference. Seeing a small child light up when they learn something new, or accomplish a task is…it’s amazing,” she whispered, her hand over her heart as she thought about the small faces she’d been teaching only a few hours earlier today. “Some of the kids even miss me over the weekend.”

  He laughed and her heart flipped over with the re-emergence of that dimple. She doubted many people got to see that dimple, so it was extra special when it came out.

  “That sounds wonderful.” He took another sip of his whiskey. “Do you want kids of your own?”

  “Oh sure!” she replied, picking up a clean cloth and polishing glasses that were already perfectly shined. She needed something to do with her hands. Better to clean glasses than to reach out and run her finger down his cheek. Or touch that bump on his nose where the bruise was barely visible just under the skin. “I want lots of kids. The more the merrier!” She chuckled and put the glass down, picking up another. “That’s what I say now, at least. I don’t know how I’ll feel after I have a few. The number might go down once I know how hard it is to raise my own children.”

  “Teaching is easier than parenting?” he clarified.

  “Absolutely!” she picked up another glass. “Parenting is twenty-four se
ven. There’s no down time. Even when sleeping, I’m assuming that parents worry about their kids.”

  “But you think it will be worth it?”

  “To have my own kids? Absolutely!” She exchanged glasses again. “Don’t you want kids?”

  Janus contemplated the innocent beauty standing before him. A kindergarten teacher! And kids? Oh hell no! But he wasn’t going to say that. She looked too hopeful.

  “Kids are a big responsibility. I don’t think I’m ready for kids just yet.”

  “You’re what…thirty?”

  “Thirty-one,” he corrected.

  “That seems like the age when most people decide they either do or don’t want kids.”

  He shrugged, adding a smile to soften his words. “Well, I figure I still have time to decide.”

  He could see the disappointment in her eyes and wasn’t sure how to fix it. He had to be honest, but the idea of pushing her away, for any reason, made his stomach tighten with dread.

  “Well, I still have some living to do before I settle down.”

  Her grin was back, as was the light in her pretty, brown eyes and his stomach muscles loosened.

  “I agree. I have a lot of traveling that I want to do before I settle down. So far, I’ve only been to the states right around Washington. I’d like to travel a bit further afield. And a house!” Her eyes widened, and she sighed longingly. “Good grief, I’d love to have a house.” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Having kids in my apartment would be truly difficult.”

  “Small place, eh?”

  “Tiny!” she agreed. “It’s not even a one bedroom. I live in a studio apartment.”

  He shook his head. “I think it’s a shame how little our country pays teachers,” he grumbled. “It’s a crime that someone with a master’s degree, who works as many hours as you do, doesn’t earn enough for even a one bedroom place.”

  “I hear ya,” she agreed. “But historically, once women took over the profession, the salaries dropped significantly.” Stevie leaned forward and sarcastically whispered, “We don’t need to earn as much money because we should just get married.”