Mirror Image

him through a veil of bandages and rely only on the sound of his voice to inspire her to fight for her life.
    She was playing his wife because she wanted to
be
his wife. She wanted to protect him. She wanted to heal the hurts inflicted on him by a selfish, spiteful woman. She wanted to sleep with him.
    If he claimed his conjugal rights, she would gladly oblige him. That would be her greatest lie yet—one he wouldn’t be able to forgive when her true identity was revealed. He would despise her more than he had Carole because he would think she had tricked him. He would never believe her love was genuine. But it was.
    He stirred. When he brought his head upright, he winced. His eyelids fluttered, came open with a start, then focused on her. She was standing within touching distance.
    “What time is it?” he asked with sleepy huskiness.
    “I don’t know. Early. Does your neck hurt?” She ran her hand through his tousled hair, then curved her hand around his neck.
    “A little.”
    She squeezed the cords of his neck, working the kinks out.
    “Hmm.”
    After a moment, he yanked his robe together, folding one side over the other. He drew in his extended leg and sat up straighter. She wondered if her tender massage had given him an early morning erection he didn’t want her to see.
    “Mandy’s still asleep,” he commented rhetorically.
    “Want some breakfast?”
    “Coffee’s fine.”
    “I’ll make breakfast.”
    Dawn was just breaking. Mona wasn’t even up yet and the kitchen was dark. Tate began spooning coffee into the disposable paper filter of a coffeemaker. Avery went to the refrigerator.
    “Don’t bother,” he said.
    “Aren’t you hungry?”
    “I can wait for Mona to get up.”
    “I’d like to cook you something.”
    Turning his back, he said nonchalantly, “All right. A couple of eggs, I guess.”
    She was familiar enough with the kitchen by now to assemble the makings for breakfast. Everything went fine until she started whisking eggs in a bowl.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Making scrambled eggs. F… for me,” she bluffed when he gave her a puzzled look. She had no idea how he liked his eggs. “Here. You finish this and let me get the toast started.”
    She busied herself with buttering the slices of toast as they popped from the toaster while covertly watching him fry two eggs for himself. He slid them onto a plate and brought it to the table, along with her serving of scrambled eggs.
    “We haven’t had breakfast together in a long time.” She bit into a slice of toast, scooped a bite of egg into her mouth, and reached for her glass of orange juice before she realized that she was the only one eating. Tate was sitting across from her with his chin propped in his hands, elbows on the table.
    “We’ve never eaten breakfast together, Carole. You hate breakfast.”
    It was difficult for her to swallow. Her hand clenched the glass of juice. “They made me eat breakfast while I was in the hospital. You know, after I got the dental implants and could eat solid food. I had to gain my weight back.”
    His gaze hadn’t wavered. He wasn’t buying it.
    “I… I got used to eating it and now I miss it when I don’t.” Defensively, she added, “Why are you making such a big deal of it?”
    Tate picked up his fork and began to eat. His movements were too controlled to be automatic. He was angry. “Save yourself the trouble.”
    She was afraid he meant the trouble of lying to him. “What trouble?”
    “Cooking my breakfast is just another of your machinations to worm your way back into my good graces.”
    Her appetite deserted her. The smell of the food now made her nauseated. “Machinations?”
    Apparently he, too, had lost his appetite. He shoved his plate away. “Breakfast. Domesticity. Those displays of affection like touching my hair, rubbing my neck.”
    “You seemed to enjoy them.”
    “They don’t mean a goddamn thing.”
    “They do!”
    “The hell they do!” He sat back, glowering at her, his jaw working with pent-up rage. “The touches and sweet good-night kisses I can stomach if I have to. If you want to pretend that we’re a loving, affectionate couple, go ahead. Make a fool of yourself. Just don’t expect me to return the phony affection. Even the Senate seat wouldn’t be enough inducement to get me into bed with you again, so that should tell you just how much I despise you.” He paused for breath. “But the thing that really galls me is your sudden concern