To obtain money for her mother's medical care, Aurora has agreed to help the show's producer, Duncan West, discover who is threatening the real Marsha's life. While their deception deepens, Aurora glimpses the sensitive, caring man behind Duncan's driven facade-and a hidden longing that flares into a desire neither can fight. As a dangerously obsessed enemy begins closing in, Aurora and Duncan are forced into a deadly game they can only win by trusting each other-and risking the promise of real everlasting love...

Excerpt from MIRROR IMAGE

By

Shirley Hailstock

Rory. She could almost taste the way he said it. Aurora lay in bed wide awake. She hadn’t been able to sleep after she’d walked out on Duncan. She’d said things she regretted but it was too late to pull the words back. He’d called her Rory, the word soft and loving while she’d been catty and childish. Rory was her family name. It brought back memories of beach days, her first concert and holiday celebrations.

In truth she couldn’t get pass the fact that one day she’d be in the same position as her mother. She thought of her sisters and her one brother. Were they all medical science experiments in-waiting? Why had she taken it out on Duncan? Because she was in love with him.

She knew they had no future. He had Hollywood on his mind and from the word around the set, he was going to be moving on soon. She’d known all along that falling in love with him was the worse thing she could do, but somehow her heart hadn’t found out until it was too late.

She wondered what he was doing now. Was he awake, lying in the dark? Was he thinking of her, hating her for what she’d said? She wanted to talk to him, apologize, make love.

Aurora threw back the covers and turned on the light. Squinting, her eyes adjusted to the room. She looked at the space on the bed where Duncan had slept. It was neat, untouched and lonely looking. She longed for him. Reaching for the phone, she thought of calling him. Before picking up the receiver she pulled her hand back. What could she say?

Could she tell him she wanted him, wanted him to hold her? He’d let her hold onto him. Could she tell him she wanted to make love to him, wanted to find that mindless place where they’d been a week ago, before misery seeped into her pours like an invisible gas?

Yes, she could. Galvanized to action, Aurora came off the bed as if propelled. Slipping her feet into slippers she rushed down the stairs. Pulling on a coat, she was in the car and out the guarded gates with a wave of her hand. She saw the guards in the rear view mirror standing helplessly in the road as she went down the curved driveway.

She’d call them when she got to Duncan’s, let them know she was safe. The drive was short and she was standing on his porch, ringing the doorbell before she’d had time to think what she would say.

"I thought..." she began, when Duncan opened the door. His eyes widened when he saw her. He wasn’t dressed. He wore the same paisley robe he’d worn when she slept in his guest room that one night. Only loosely knotted at his waist, her mind conjured up sexual images that burned her ears and should most certainly be reflected on her face.

Courage failed her, however. Her tongue grew too thick for her to get words over it. She wasn’t going to be able to continue. "I wonder..." she started but stopped. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t outright tell a man she wanted him to make love to her. Women did it all the time. She’d met some of them, aggressive and sure of themselves. She’d also met the ones who couldn’t verbalize any of their wants. Now she knew which category she fell into. Aurora had never done this before and something like this would take practice. "Can I sleep in your guest room?" The question was weak and sounded that way.

Duncan took her arms, pulling her into the foyer and closing the door.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "You can’t sleep in my guest room. If you stay here, its in my room. Take it or leave it."

She stared at him for any sign of humor, arrogance or insincerity. What she saw was passion and something akin to concern, caring, even love. She wasn’t sure but the depth held nothing hostile, only longing and need. She knew the same was reflected in her own eyes.

"I’ll take it," she said.

Duncan let go of his breath. If she’d waited any longer to answer he’d have passed out from lack of oxygen.

His hands slipped down her arms, taking her hands. For the moment it was enough. She’d come to him. After she’d left his office, he wasn’t sure she would come back, but she was here. Elation seared through him. Then he slipped his arms around her, going inside her coat. Shocked, he stepped back. She wore only a thin satin nightgown.

"You’re not wearing any clothes."