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Jamie at a Chris-t-mas party la-te last ye-ar when he'd be-en vi-si-ting fri-ends in Chat-ta-no-oga. He'd do-ne his best to charm her, and he had al-most suc-ce-eded. She'd fo-und the man ut-terly ir-re-sis-tib-le.
    But on-ce she'd dis-co-ve-red that he'd be-en fas-ci-na-ted by her be-ca-use she re-sem-b-led his te-ena-ge swe-et-he-art, her com-mon sen-se kic-ked in-to play. And if the-re was one thing Re-ve Sor-rell was known for, it was her com-mon sen-se. Ne-ver a play-girl, al-ways a se-ri-o-us stu-dent as well as an obe-di-ent da-ug-h-ter and a lady who had be-en ac-cu-sed by many men of be-ing an ice qu-e-en, Re-ve pri-ded her-self on not al-lo-wing emo-ti-ons to ru-le her. She was an ad-mit-ted con-t-rol fre-ak. Of co-ur-se, kno-wing Jamie Up-ton for the char-ming sco-un-d-rel he was didn't me-an she might not lo-ok him up whi-le she was in the area. Af-ter all, hadn't he in-vi-ted her to co-me for a vi-sit and stay with his fa-mily on the-ir es-ta-te out-si-de town?
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    "I know a girl who co-uld be yo-ur twin," Jamie had told her. "You sho-uld co-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te and me-et Jas-mi-ne. She'd get a kick of me-eting her lo-ok-ali-ke."
    Reve had hi-red a pri-va-te in-ves-ti-ga-ti-on agency to com-pi-le a re-port on Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot.
    She and the wo-man we-re the sa-me age, al-t-ho-ugh the-ir bir-t-h-days we-re al-most a we-ek apart; but then her pa-rents hadn't known her exact birth da-te. And Jaz-zy, as her fri-ends cal-led her, had be-en ra-ised by an aunt, an old wo-man known as the town ko-ok.
    Would a mot-her ha-ve gi-ven her sis-ter one child and thrown the ot-her in-to the gar-ba-ge?
    So-me-how it didn't se-em li-kely. The pri-va-te de-tec-ti-ve had in-c-lu-ded a do-zen pho-tog-raphs of Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot when he'd han-ded in his re-port, and Re-ve had to ad-mit that the-re was a stri-king re-sem-b-lan-ce bet-we-en the two of them. Eno-ugh so that they co-uld easily be sis-ters, per-haps even twins. She had put off me-eting the wo-man fa-ce-to-fa-ce, un-su-re how she wo-uld re-act when she met Jaz-zy. If they we-re sis-ters, wo-uld she fe-el an in-s-tant bond, an im-me-di-ate fa-mi-li-al con-nec-ti-on?
    Re-ve par-ked half a block down from Jas-mi-ne's, got out of the Jag, loc-ked it se-cu-rely, and step-ped up on the si-de-walk. The air was crisp, fresh and co-ol, sprin-g-ti-me mor-ning co-ol. She chec-ked her watch. Eig-ht-fif-te-en. Still early eno-ugh to or-der bre-ak-fast at the res-ta-urant. Just go in-si-de, she told her-self. Or-der bre-ak-fast and see how the pe-op-le who work for Jas-mi-ne re-act to you. If they don't go run-ning to her with news that they’ve se-en her twin and she do-esn’t co-me out to see for her-self, then you '11 ha-ve to ask to spe-ak with her.
    When she ar-ri-ved at the en-t-ran-ce to the res-ta-urant, she pa-used, to-ok a de-ep bre-ath, then stif-fe-ned her spi-ne and re-ac-hed for the do-or han-d-le. A lar-ge mas-cu-li-ne hand shot out aro-und her and grab-bed the han-d-le. Star-t-led by the unex-pec-ted mo-ve, she gas-ped and glan-ced over her sho-ul-der. A tall, lanky man with overly long brown ha-ir and sexy gol-den eyes smi-led at her. Her sto-mach did an in-vo-lun-tary flip-flop when he sta-red at her as if he wan-ted to kiss her. It wasn't that she didn't ha-ve a long li-ne of eli-gib-le men knoc-king on her do-or. She did. But every sin-g-le one of them knew she was a mul-ti-mil-li-ona-ire. This man didn't know her, had no idea she was the he-ir to the Sor-rell for-tu-ne. And he ac-ted as if he was in-s-tantly in-te-res-ted in her.
    His smi-le wa-ve-red. He sho-ok his he-ad. "Lady, has an-yo-ne ever told you that you've got a twin?"
    "I beg yo-ur par-don?"
    "Different ha-ir style and yo-ur co-lor is dar-ker. Mo-re auburn. And yo-ur eyes are brown, not gre-en, but then I'm pretty su-re she we-ars co-lo-red con-tacts." He sur-ve-yed her from he-ad to toe.
    "You're a few po-unds he-avi-er,